


A Tale In Which Alternia Succumbs to a Revolution Sparked by a Seadweller and a Cat-Themed Olive-Blood

by musicalArchon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 40,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalArchon/pseuds/musicalArchon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eridan Ampora, seadweller, violet-blood, fashionable gentletroll, has been rejected by his love.</p><p>Nepeta Leijon, cave-dweller, olive-blood, huntress of the jungles, has just had a similar experience.</p><p>Romance and adventure ensues as the two each work out their respective issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I. In which Eridan Ampora laments over his romantic failures in two separate quadrants.

Your name is ERIDAN AMPORA, and you've recently been rejected by the love of your life.

 

Now, most trolls would be sad for a week, probably cry for an hour or two after and talk to their moirails about it. Not you. You're not going to be outdone by the weaksauce bunch of wrigglers known as “most trolls.” No, you're Eridan Fuckin' Ampora!

 

So instead, you weep incessantly for the better part of a week, barely able to eat or drink. It's kinda pathetic, actually. Eventually you stop for just long enough to realize that you haven't even thought about killing all the land dwellers all week. Funny what rejection can do to a troll. That last thought nearly sends you into another fit of abject weeping and self-berating, but just then you hear the faint _bloop_ noise of your husktop as it informs you that someone is trolling you.

 

 _Wwhat? Wwhy wwould anyone wwanna talk to me right noww?_ You ask yourself disconsolately. _Can't they just go awway?_ Another _bloop_ from your husktop answers your question. You sigh, then drag yourself to your desk, crawl into your chair, and affix your computer screen with the most miserable look you can muster. You manage a look between wrathful spite and dejected failure as you look at Trollian to discover that Karkat has trolled you. Not the troll you most want to talk to right now, but frankly, you'll take anyone at the moment.

 

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA] -- 

 

CG: ERIDAN, ARE YOU THERE?

CG: ERIDAN, SERIOUSLY, IF YOU'RE JUST GOING TO STAY IN YOUR HIVE AND WEEP YOURSELF TO AN EARLY FUCKING GRAVE, NO ONE IS GOING TO MISS YOU.

CG: SO YOU MIGHT AS WELL ANSWER ME BETWEEN SOBS, YOU WRETCHED FISH LICKING NOOK SUCKER.

CA: im here kar

CA: wwhat is it

CG: FINALLY, I WAS WORRIED I'D HAVE TO DEAL WITH SPIDERBITCH FOR ANOTHER HOUR.

CA: wwhat vvris contacted you

CG: YES, SHE CONTACTED ME. ONLY EIGHT TIMES OVER THE COURSE OF AN HOUR OR SO.

CG: GOD, I CAN SEE WHY YOU'D PICK HER FOR YOUR BLACK QUADRANT.

CG: THE MISERABLE FISH-DOUCHE AND THE INSUFFERABLE SPIDER-WENCH. CLEARLY A MATCH MADE IN OOZING, PUNGENT, CALIGINOUS HEAVEN.

CA: wwhat did she need

CA: come to think of it wwhyd she talk to you

CG: APPARENTLY YOU MISSED YOUR GAME FOR FUCKING WRIGGLERS.

CG: SHE SEEMED PRETTY PISSED.

CA: oh cod i did didnt i

CA: wwhy didnt she tell me

CG: SHE TRIED, BUT YOU WERE TOO BUSY STEEPED IN A POOL OF YOUR OWN MISERY AND FAILINGS TO NOTICE.

CG: AND FRANKLY, I'M ONLY TELLING YOU TO GET HER OFF MY BONE BULGE. SO SORRY IF I'M KINDA FUCKING SHORT WITH YOU.

CA: its fine

CA: wwait kar

CA: howw did you knoww i wwas upset

CG: OUR FRIENDS ARE SOME OF THE BIGGEST GOSSIPS I'VE EVER HAD THE DISPLEASURE OF KNOWING. I SWEAR TO GOG, I CANNOT ENGAGE IN A SINGLE MEANINGFUL CONVERSATION WITH ANY OF THEM WITHOUT HAVING STUPID GOSSIP DRIBBLE OUT THEIR PROTEIN CHUTES NOWADAYS.

CA: wwhat are they sayin about me

CA: and wwhos been talkin about me mostly

CG: I HEARD ABOUT IT FROM THAT SWEATY ASSHOLE EQUIUS. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY HE DECIDED TO TROLL ME, BUT IT MUST HAVE BEEN PRETTY FUCKING UNIMPORTANT IF YOUR FUCKING QUADRANT-LIFE IS WHAT I PICKED OUT OF THE CONVERSATION.

CG: AS FOR WHAT THEY'RE SAYING ABOUT YOU,

CG: OH, JUST THAT YOUR'E A MISERABLE PIECE OF AQUATIC TOOTH-BEAST SHIT.

CG: BUT DON'T WORRY, MOST OF THEM DON'T GIVE REALLY TWO SHITS THAT YOU FUCKED UP YOUR RED, AND PALE, QUADRANTS. THEY REALLY DON'T.

CA: i didnt mean to

CA: i mean

CA: i hoped

CG: LOOK, WE'LL GET YOUR SHIT STRAIGHTENED OUT LATER. RIGHT NOW, I JUST WANT A FUCKING BREAK FROM ALL THE GOSSIP AND DRAMA THAT SEEMS TO HAVE INEXPLICABLY CROPPED UP AROUND ME LIKE FUCKING TROLL-SEEKING WEEDS OR SOMETHING.

CG: SERIOUSLY, WHAT WE NEED IS SOMETHING TO GET EVERYONE TO STOP FUCKING AROUND, LIKE SOME KIND OF TEAM-BUILDING EXCERCISE. LIKE SOME KIND OF... IMMERSIVE GAME OR SOMETHING?

CG: FUCK, I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING ANYMORE. MY THINK PAN HAS HAD TOO MUCH OF THIS BY HALF.

CA: alright but promise wwell talk later

CG: YEAH YEAH, I PROMISE ON MY FUCKING UNHATCHED WRIGGLER SPAWN. NOW GO TROLL VRISKA BEFORE SHE BREAKS HER STUPID RULE OF EIGHTS.

 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA].

 

In your misery, you had completely forgotten that you had made plans with your kismesis. What's worse is that you hadn't heard from her in a long time, so you thought that it would've been nice to go FLARPing with her. But you missed the date. Stood her up. Honestly, who stands up a perfectly good rival like Vriska Serket like that? You, apparently. At least you won't have to explain yourself, seeing as how every troll and their ancestor likely knows why you haven't left your hive. Heck, you haven't even left your respiteblock. How's that for pathetic?

 

In any case, you look at Trollian to discover that, indeed, she has trolled you, quite a few times. You wouldn't be surprised if she didn't want anything more to do with you ever.

 

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

AG: Eridaaaaaaaan!!!!!!!!

AG: I dearly hope you haven't forgotten a8out me, Eridan. ;:::)

AG: After all, what kind of kismesis would stand up their h8d8 like this, hhhhhhhhm????????

AG: Eridan, are you there?

AG: Come on, fish-breath!

AG: Why w8n't you 8nsw8r m8????????

 

Her messages go on like this for a while, in true Serket fashion, alternating between a number of various moods and methods of cajoling. After scrolling through the plethora of insults, pleas, and witticisms, you eventually reach the bottom, and are stabbed once more in your collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system.

 

AG: Look, Eridan.

AG: I don't think this is going to work out anymore.

AG: I mean, you're a horrible troll and all.

AG: 8ut I've got waaaaaaaay too many irons on the fire to be entangled with someone who falls to pieces every time they get rejected by a potential flushedmate.

AG: So I guess this is good8ye.

 

arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA].

 

After reading that, you attempt to slink back into your recuperacoon, but make it only as far as the floor in front of your desk before you break down and start weeping like a wriggler again.

 

Man, you truly are pathetic, aren't you? Although, I suppose we can leave you alone for now; after all, you've just been dumped in two quadrants. Yeesh, I don't think we really want to be you right now.


	2. II. In which Nepeta Leijon is rejected by her beloved, and is comforted by her strong, horse-themed moirail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance if I completely butcher writing Nepeta.

You are NEPETA LEIJON, and you've just been rejected by the love of your life. It happened a few moments ago, in fact, over Trollian.

 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC].

 

CG: HEY NEPETA.

CG: WE NEED TO TALK.

CG: YOU GOT TIME?

AC: :33< of course karkitty!

AC: :33< what's up?

CG: LISTEN NEPETA, I

CG: I JUST

CG: I MEAN. FUCK

CG: FUCK, THIS ISN'T GOING WELL AT ALL.

AC: :33< what wrong karkitty?

AC: :33< you know you can tell me anything and efurrything!

CG: WELL, THIS ISN'T EXACTLY SPLENDID FUCKING NEWS I'VE GOT TO SHARE.

CG: I MEAN

CG: FUCK.

CG: LOOK, I KNOW, ALRIGHT?

CG: ABOUT YOUR LITTLE CRUSH.

AC: oh.

AC: :33< i mean, how do you feel about it?

CG: I'M SORRY NEPETA.

CG: I'M JUST NOT FLUSHED FOR YOU.

CG: I SHOULD'VE TOLD YOU EARLIER, BUT...

AC: oh.

AC: i

 

arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG].

 

You couldn't handle the conversation any more. The rejection was too much. You had pitied this boy with all your heart for sweeps on end, and now he decides out of nowhere to dump this on you. You couldn't help but cry, at least a little.

 

But you're a strong, independent cattroll, who don't need no man. And what's more, you have the best moirail on all of Alternia! You decide to contact him now, seeing absolutely no irony in the previous two statements at all.

 

arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling centaursTesticle [CT]

 

AC: :33< equiuuuus!!

AC: :33< i need you ofur here right meow!

CT: D--> Is this absl00tly necessary?

CT: D--> I am in the middle of some e%tremely delicate work, and I have little time for horsing around.

AC: :33< i know youre busy, equius, but I really need you right meow.

AC: :33< i just got rejected...

CT: D--> Oh my.

CT: D--> Was it the boy you told me about last sweep?

AC: :33< yes. 3::

CT: D--> Alight, I'll canter on over then.

AC: :33< thank you so much!

CT: D--> There is no need.

CT: D--> I am merely doing as any good and STRONG moirail would.

CT: D--> I'll see you soon.

 

centaursTesticle [CT] ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

 

Smiling, you log out of Trolllian, hopping off of the pile of furs you tend to sleep on. You then move toward your shipping wall in the back of your cave, ready to alter it...

 

You cannot do it.

 

You cannot change the shipping wall.

 

You gaze at the large image of you and Karkat together, heart above the pair. You heave a sigh and almost break down into tears, but then you hear the sound of rocket jets touching down outside your cave. Equius arrives with his usual complaint about a cave being unbecoming of a troll of your blood color.

 

You just takcle-pounce him, tears at the corners of your eyes. He backs up, stoically allowing you to latch on until he drops onto the fur pile.

 

“I must confess, Nepeta,” he begins, his refined voice in stark contrast to the setting, “While your abode is primitive and lacking in refinement, these furs are extremely comfortable.”

 

You giggle, detaching yourself and sitting crosslegged in front of him. “Only the fluffiest beasts become chosen as my prrrey!” you respond, “Especially where respite is concerned. After all, I have to think about my adorable liddow lusus too!”

 

As if on que, your lusus saunters up to Equius, and rubs up against his leg. In response, Equius adapts a look somewhere between horror and tense suspense, not moving a muscle for fear of hurting the thing.

 

“Nepeta, why must your lusus always intrude upon our feelings jams whenever we host them in your home?” he asks tersely.

 

“Aww, he just likes to watch,” you begin giving him scritchies behind the ears when he moves over to you, eliciting a disquieted look from Equius. He shakes it off quickly.

 

“So, this boy,” he begins, “Is he someone I should have STRONG words with?” His each and every word comes with an ever-increasing ominousness which unsettles you.

 

“No!” you snap, concerned, “I just wanted to talk about it with someone, and well, you are my moirail,” you giggle slightly.

 

“Of course,” he says more calmly, “Forgive me my STRONG feelings on this. For, if anyone should hurt you, I would wish them an equal, if not greater amount of suffering.”

 

Even though his statements might seem a little creepy to some, you can't help but giggle profusely. “Aw, Equius! That's so sweet! In a creepy, older lusus sort of way.” Equius flushes mildly.

 

“Thank you for saying so, Nepeta,” he pauses, then continues, “So, what exactly, would you like to talk about?”

 

“Oh, I don't know,” you turn around, then flop backwards, head resting in his lap, “I guess I always sorta knew, deep down, that he wasn't into me, but it was nice to dream, you know?” You feel Equius' hand brushing your hair gently. You seem to be the only living creature he seems to be able to handle with any degree of softness, and even this small amount of affection is difficult for him. That's why you appreciate it all the more, purring softly.

 

“I see,” he says, his hands sifting through the strands of your messy hair, calming you greatly.

 

“I mean, I figured this was coming, but to tell me over Trollian? That's just...” you're not sure what else to say.

 

“That is quite uncouth. I can see why you would be so upset,” he begins to scritch behind your horns, eliciting a slight sigh of relief and pleasure.

 

“How do you do that?” you ask him, looking up, “Seriously, you're a big strong angry troll, and you don't even know how to control your own strength, but you know exactly how to calm me down.”

 

He looks at you and gives a little grin, “Being your moirail for so many sweeps has given me a particular skill-set that extends beyond the customary shoosh-papping expected of moirails. Among them is the knowledge of when not to be STRONG.”

 

Giggling, you boop him on the nose, “Well, I'm glad I've taught you so much, even if you do have to work on that last bit.”

 

“What?” he asks incredulously, “It is my STRONG belief that I am doing very well in restricting my immense STRENGTH.”

 

“How's the steering column on your scuttlebuggy?” you ask him, eyebrow raised.

 

“Well, I, erm...” he begins to sweat profusely. Luckily, you keep several towels on hand for him, one of which you give to him. “Thank you, Nepeta,” he mutters as he wipes down his face.

 

“I'm just teasing you, Equius,” you giggle, then sigh as you remember the point of the conversation, “I just... I pity him so, so much. And he knew that. And he just... I feel like I'm chopped liver or something.” Equius gives a worried pout, as his scritchies increase ever-so-slightly in fervor.

 

“Are you one-hundred percent certain it would not please you if I had words with him?” he asks tentatively. You sigh, and give a wan smile.

 

“Nah, I think he'd just be louder than you,” you chuckle a bit, “I'll get ofur it. Eventually.”

 

Equius looks pensively for a moment, as if searching for something to say. He then comes upon something, brightening somewhat. “If it makes you feel any better, you are not the only troll with quadrant troubles.” Your ears prick up at this, and you look at him, puzzled.

 

“Yes,” he goes on, “As it turns out, the seadweller has most recently lost his moirail, the heiress, after confessing his STRONG flushed feelings for her.”

 

“Wait...” you search your think pan for a memory of the troll he's speaking of. You remember the color violet vaguely. “Eridan Ampurra?”

 

“Yes, him,” he giggles himself, a strange sound, almost sinister without meaning to be, “He has not left his hive for several weeks now, as his despair has overwhelmed him.”

 

Though you know of him but little, your heart goes out to the sea troll, “That's so sad! He seems like a hopeless romantic.”

 

“Hopeless, perhaps,” Equius responds, evenly, “Though I have STRONG doubts about his propensity for romance.”

 

“Equius!” You get up to look at him in the face, “That isn't a nice thing to say.” You wag your finger at him as he stares at you, unperturbed, from behind his cracked shades.

 

“Nepeta, please. If you knew the seadweller like I do, you would not be so quick to come to his defense.” Equius crosses his arms, and affixes you a stern glare.

 

“Well, you're right, I don't know Ampurra very well,” you raise yourself to your knees, which puts you at his current height, “So I'm in no position to crittercize him. Besides, I just went through something similar, so I know how he's feeling, at least a little bit.” In an act of great maturity, you stick your tongue out at Equius. While you cannot see it for his shades, you know he's rolling his eyes at you.

 

“Nepeta, enough of this udder foolishness. We aren't even talking about the seadweller here, after all, you are the one who has most recently suffered heartbreak; we should be discussing you.” His face softens somewhat, “I don't know what possessed me to trot up that topic in the first place.”

 

“Oh, Equius,” you say softly drawing closer to your moirail, “I know you were just trying to make me feel better. I didn't mean to rile you up.”

 

“It is perfectly alright, Nepeta,” Equius uncrosses his arms and touches them down to the soft furs beneath you both, “I should have known you would be cowbelled to come to his defense, and while I cannot in good conscience, agree with you, I must say your naivete is quite endearing.”

 

“Hey, I'm not naive!” you say with indignation.

 

“What about that time you saw fit to FLARP with that rather fishy gentletroll, against my better judgment?” he raises an eyebrow, “And he tried to take advantage of you?”

 

“Oh please, I knew all he wanted was the treasure. Besides, you pounced on him just in time!” you hug him affectionately, remembering the moment when Equius had come and saved you from that troll. He had seemed respectful and polite, but you knew he was just after the loot. After all, you were too. The only difference was that you had the strongest moirail ever, and all he had was a two-prong fork thing. It was like a slaughter, except for the actual killing part; he managed to escape into the sea, away from your moirail's wrath.

 

“But what if I hadn't shown up? What would you have done then?”

 

“I had my claws! I could've defended myself purrfectly fine!” you paw at Equius in imitation of your claws, which elicits a chuckle and a lighthearted grin from him.

 

“Oh, Nepeta,” he sighs, then holds you, “Sometimes watching over you can be a handful, you know that?”

 

The two of you continue your feelings jam for the better part of two hours, and eventually, your moirail returns to his hive. You snicker as you catch a glimpse of the inside of his scuttlebuggy; the handle of the steering column has been crushed, as though by an extremely STRONG hand.

 

After Equius heads off, you turn again to your shipping wall, with a wistful smile on your face. You wish you didn't have to do this, but you know it's for the best. You pitied him for so long, and it's time to move on, no matter what that may mean.

 

So, it is with a heavy pump biscuit that you pick up a piece of charcoal, and with a shaking hand, cross out your OTP. The image was once a lovely image of Karki- Karkat and yourself with a heart betwixt the two of you. Now it seems twisted, abhorrent to the senses. It is all too much a reminder of what might have been, and your eyes brim with tears as your hand comes away from the wall.


	3. III. In which Eridan is contacted by his fascist friends, and subsequently goes for a swim.

You've finally gotten off the floor and have gone to look out at the sea. Nevermind the fact that it took you an entire day of weeping to do so, the fact is you've done it. You've gotten over BOTH Feferi, and Vriska.

 

At least, that's what you're going to tell yourself until you believe it.

 

In any case, you find yourself looking out at the sea. Contrary to the popular belief of your landdwelling associates, you very much do like the sea. Most trolls accuse you of being more landdweller than proper seadweller; after all, you live on land, and to most trolls' knowledge, you spend almost no time underwater. And that all used to be true. But since then, you've learned to appreciate the oceans of Alternia, and gazing out upon them is a soothing activity. The how of this probably involves a heartwarming story of self-discovery or something. But you don't dwell on it.

 

Swimming, you've decided, is an even more soothing activity. And one you would very much like to partake in. So, for the first time in what feels like sweeps, you exit your respiteblock. Then, you walk downstairs, past your lusus, and toward your indoor harbor, which acts as a sort of garage for your sailing ship.

 

Contrary to another commonly held belief about you, you don't actually sail with your hive. Yes, it's a boat, but it's also a grounded boat, and it would be very difficult to sail in. Instead, you have a full-fledged ship, altered so that it only requires one troll to sail it, stowed in a sublayer under your hive proper.

 

You look upon it, and wince at the name emblazoned on the side. The _S.S. FefVris_. You admit now, that this was a terrible decision on your part. Why did you even think that combining the names of your flushcrush and your kismesis was a good idea? Honestly, it was probably one of the worst ideas you've ever had. How high do you have to be to even do something like that?

 

Regardless, you glance to your side, and notice Ahab's Crosshairs leaning up against the wall. Captchaloging the super-weapon absentmindedly, you move toward the pier, where a gangplank lies, waiting the ship's captain.

 

This is where someone trolls you over your mobile communication device. Someone you don't really want to chat with right this second.

 

poseidonsFangs [PF] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

PF: --[ Caligula, I require your mosT excellenT advice on someThing.

PF: --[ Do you have a momenT?

CA: not really pos

CA: about to go fer a swwim

PF: --[ Perhaps afTer?

CA: yeah maybe

PF: --[ … I heard abouT your... quadranT Troubles.

PF: --[ You have my sympaThies.

CA: yeah yeah

CA: wwell talk about my wworthless existence later

CA: bye

PF: --[ Fare Thee well, Caligula.

 

poseidonsFangs [PF] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

Great guy, Poseidon. His real name is Wyland Garlen. You met him on a forum hosted by the seadweller-supremacy group you happen to be a member of. When he first trolled you, he insisted you call him by his codename. You thought it kind of pointless and silly, but you humored him. After all, he absolutely hated the landdwellers, more than anything, so he must be a good fellow. He likely has his reasons for his secrecy. You've FLARPed against him once or twice, but he was always the clouder, so the two of you have never met. You have, however, met his partner, whom-

 

Hold on, someone else is trolling you. Well, speak of the angel.

 

neptunesIncisors [NI] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

NI: --{ Sir Ampora! Sir Ampora!

NI: --{ I just wanted to inform You that I care not a whit for Your quadrant problems!

NI: --{ But You really should talk to my brother; he has something exciting for You!

CA: yeah i told him wwed talk

NI: --{ Not soon enough, You sluggard!

NI: --{ Not soon enough bY sweeps!

CA: look can you just go

CA: i really just wwanna swwim right noww

NI: --{ Oh verY well, verY well!

NI: --{ But You will troll him!

NI: --{ I know You will!

 

neptunesIncisors [NI] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

Well, you're thoroughly disturbed now. You always are when you talk to Waylon Gerlan. He was the one you would always find yourself at odds with whenever you FLARPed against Wyland. They call themselves the Bident Brothers, after the strife specibus they both use. Where Wy is cultured, refined, and a little bit stuffy, Way has always been quirky, disturbing, and most of all, kind of a dick. If Wyland is a less sweaty, seadweller Equius, than Waylon is like seadweller Gamzee, if Gamzee was a crazed, possibly evil megalomaniac. You ponder that thought a moment, then shudder with momentary horror.

 

In any case, you walk up the gangplank, and cast off from the dock. The ship moves out a ways with the current, and when it starts to slow, you take hold of the steering apparatus and begin to guide the ship towards wherever. You deliberately try to keep your mind blank, and for the most part succeed. You focus on the calm waters of the bay outside your hive in the night sky.

 

Eventually, you slow the boat down and examine the area around you. On your right, you see a jungle, the trees and foliage growing right up the water's edge. You gaze on it a bit, wondering what could possibly lie within. Looking over and above the treeline, you see a cave up on a mountain.

 

_I wwonder wwhat sort of creature'd make that place its home_ , you ponder, _probably a scumblood mangy cat or somethin_. You frown a bit and wonder where that thought came from.

 

You shake it off. You then make your way to the edge of the boat, and clamber up onto the railing. You look over the edge of the ship, into the dark waters of the bay. Your reflection looks back contemptuously. You match its sneer, and it matches yours until the both of you realize your stupidity. Sighing, you stand up on the railing, turn your back to the waters, spread your arms, and fall.


	4. IV. In which Nepeta attempts to distract herself from the one who scorned her, and also attempts to save a seadweller from suicide.

You have been out all night, hunting. You wanted to get your mind off Karkat, but nothing seemed to be helping. Every time you sliced through the flesh of an animal with your claws, the selfsame armaments reminded you of Karkats' own sickles. Every time you lunged, screaming bloody murder at your prey, you were reminded of Karkat's rage which he slung haphazardly at anyone who would listen. Each time you spilled the blood of an Alternian creature, it was, for some reason that escaped you, reminiscent of your own imaginings of Karkat's own blood.

 

Upon that reflection, you remember that you've never even seen Karkat's blood. You have no idea what color it is. He always typed in that hemoanonymous gray. _He was pawlways so afuraid about others finding out about his blood color for some reason_ , you ponder, _I don't know why. It's not like any of his friends would have cared... would they?_

 

You now find yourself on the edge of the jungle that lies outside your cave. The foliage creeps right up to a large body of dark water, and you decide to sit down and rest on the water's edge a moment. Kicking off your shoes, you sit down in the sand, and look up at the night sky. You know the sun will be up soon, and that you shouldn't be outside when it comes up. But you know you have some time. Some time to just lie back, relax, and forget all of your worries. If only for a moment.

 

Soon, you hear what sounds like a large object breaking the stillness of the water. Opening your eyes and sitting up, you see a large thing splitting the water with moderate speed. As it gets closer, you see that it's a ship, with a crew of one.

 

Curious as a cat, you leap up and dart into a grouping of ferns, hiding yourself expertly so as to observe the intruder better. The ship draws close enough for you to make out the troll at the helm. He is tall and thin, really thin, as though he hadn't eaten in quite some time. He's wearing a big, flamboyant, violet cape, and a scarf to match. Most striking is the bright purple stripe in his hair. You get the strange feeling that you've seen him before.

 

You can't really tell, but he seems really depressed, almost disconsolate. You see him walk up to the railing of his ship and climb on top with admirable skill, then have a staring contest with the water. After a minute or so of this, he stands up, turns around, spreads his arms, and falls into the water.

 

Your mind immediately makes several connections; the troll's expression, his manner of casting himself overboard, the purple stripe in his hair all melding together in your mind like a collage of sorrow.

 

You dash out from your bush, run to the water's edge, and without a second thought, leap in. Your lean and muscled legs and arms allow you to swim with grace and alacrity, and you quickly catch up to the slowly descending troll. His closed eyes confirm your grim suspicions. _He's going to drown he's going to drown he's going to drown._ Your mantra energizes you to new feats of underwater heroism as you grab the troll around the waist. He begins to thrash and fight you, but you are easily able to carry the skinny troll up to the surface, whereupon you toss him up on the shore.

 

You cough out seawater and attempt to rise, but are quickly grappled by the lapels of your now soaking olive jacket.

 

“Wwhat the fuck!?” the troll screams in your face, “Wwhat the ewerlowin fuck did you do that for!?” He is clearly enraged, though you can't for the life of you figure out why.

 

“I just saved your furricking life, you dummy!” You shove him away from you and stand on your own two feet. He looks at in you in complete confusion.

 

“Wwhat do you mean, you sawed my life?” he asks, incredulously.

 

“You were going to drown yourself, and I carried you up!” you respond, as though the other troll hadn't been there.

 

“Drowwn...?” he considers a moment, then his face lights up, then he begins to laugh. It's a haughty, aristocratic laugh, but free and charming. Now it's your turn to be confused.

 

After he calms down some, he notices your confusion, which is slowly morphing into impatience. He then points meaningfully at the fins on either side of his head, which you had failed to notice in your haste to save him.

 

“Oh...” the realization dawns on you that you had just tried to save a seadweller from drowning. Embarrassment and a fierce blush develop soon after.

 

“Oh, don't wworry about it,” the troll says jovially, putting an arm around your shoulder, “At least you care enough...” his mood suddenly takes a downward turn toward Depressedville, much like it had been before he dropped into the water.

 

“See, it's that face!” you say, so as to deflect the ambient awkwardness away from yourself. He looks at you, eyebrow raised.

 

“Wwhat face? Wwhat do you mean?” he asks.

 

“That face is what made me pounce fur the water,” you begin to explain, “I saw you furrom the bushes ofur there, and you looked so pawful, and-”

 

“Do you hawe to make cat puns wwith ewery sentence?” he asks, his face a mask of slight irritation.

 

“No, but I want to, so I will!” you stick your tongue out at him, and he furrows his brow, “Anyway, you looked so sad, and then you just dropped into the water; I thought you were trying to...”

 

“Krill myself?” the troll says plainly.

“Aha! You use puns too!” you shout triumphantly, much to his obvious displeasure. His withering stare prompts you to get back to the subject at hand, “I mean, yeah. I couldn't just sit there watching someone do that to themselves. I mean, it's bad enough that we live on such a dangerous world, what with the vicious animals, and the Imperial Drones, and the-”

 

“Yes, yes, I get it,” the troll cuts you off, running his hand through his hair. After a moment of semi-awkward silence, he speaks, “Thanks.”

 

“Hm?” you look up at him, confused somewhat.

 

“For tryin, I mean. To sawe my miserable life,” he sighs, “Ewen if I didn't need it, it means somefin, I suppose.” Another moment of silence. “Wwell, I guess I should get goin,” he turns to swim back to his ship.

 

“Wait!” you shout at the quickly receding troll. He turns back to you, curious. “I didn't get your name!”

 

He blinks, then responds, “Eridan. Eridan Ampora.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this chapter, but I had an engagement yesterday. Enjoy this belated chapter!


	5. V. In which Eridan pours out his story to the strange cat-themed troll.

You have no idea why you told this gutterblood cat troll your name. Apparently you and she had met at some party a ways back, but for the life of you, you could not remember her name. But now she knew your's, and as soon as you told her, she ran up to you, grasped your sleeve, and before you knew it you were being forcibly dragged through the underbrush. She kept going on and on about how you hadn't been taking care of yourself and how she wanted to help you and it was starting to make your acidic digestive sac roil.

 

Since all attempts to extricate yourself from the cat troll's grip have proved fruitless, you've instead devoted your immense mental acuity towards remembering this troll's name. So far, you've come up blank. _Think, Er, oliwe blood, likes meowwbeasts... nurturing?_ You cannot do it. You cannot remember the name. So you just stare ahead mutely, wondering where it is you're going.

 

Then you see your destination. The cave you saw earlier looms above you on the mountain. A trail leads up from the forest floor to the cave mouth. You sigh and mentally prepare for the walk up. The cat troll has stopped talking, but she's still dragging you up the trail.

 

“Erm...” you start.

 

“Hm?” the cat troll looks back at you.

 

“I get you wwant to take care a me and all that, for some reason,” you scratch the back of your head with your free hand, “but wwhy? Wwhy do you feel like you'we got to do this? I mean, I don't ewen knoww your name.” The cat troll looks at you, blinks, and smiles.

 

“Well, I know exactly what you're going through. I feel fur you, and I feel as though it's my duty to do my best to make you feel better!” she says with exaggerated solemnity. You adopt a deadpan expression.

 

You are now at the mouth of the cave, and the cat troll drags you through without ceremony. Suddenly, you're being swung forward, and with a shout, you fall...

 

Into a comfortable pile of animal furs. It really is quite comfortable and fluffy. The cat troll has left the room, and you hear sounds of rummaging from another chamber in the cave. A few minutes later, she comes back out with a platter, upon which lie a kettle and two small cups.

 

She sits down across from you, setting down the platter. When she tips the kettle, a sweet-smelling, brownish liquid cascades into the little cups. She offers you one, and you take it with suspicion. You only take a sip after you see her take one. It tastes like herbs and sugar, with a hint of a spicy kick after it goes down. _Huh, not bad..._ At least it doesn't seem to kill you.

 

“Do you like the tea?” the cat troll is looking at you expectantly.

 

“Er, yeah,” you say lamely, “it's pretty good. Wwhat did you call it? Tea?”

 

The cat troll giggles, and then her eyes become wide with realization.

 

“I haven't told you my name!” she says with surprise.

 

“No, no you hawen't,” you say simply, sipping your tea.

 

“I'm Nepeta Leijon,” she says, extending a hand. You look at it. _Eh, she may be a lowwblood, but..._ You sigh, _wwhatewer._ You take the hand and shake it.

 

“So,” you take another sip of tea, then set the cup down, “wwhy are wwe here?”

 

“So you can talk about your purroblems, of course!” she smiles at you, “I know your going through a lot, and I just-”

 

“First of all,” you say, cutting her off, “you're not my moirail. I don't hawe to tell you fuckin anythin. Second, you keep sayin howw you knoww howw I feel.” You're starting to get a little angrier. “Howw the fuck could you possibly knoww wwhat I'm goin through right noww?”

 

After a moment of silence, Nepeta speaks up, “I was rejected by my flushcrush just yesterday.”

 

Great, now you've made an ass of yourself in front of your new friend. Wait, _is_ Nepeta your friend?

 

“I pitied him furever, or so it seemed. Than, out of the blue, he tells me he not only knows about my crush, but doesn't feel the same,” she sighs, “I mean, I know he wasn't trying to hurt me, but my heart still aches.” She goes silent.

 

“Aw, Nep-”

 

“But I know you've got it even worse!” she enthuses suddenly, “That's why I want to try and make you feel better! Because then maybe I'll feel better, and then everyone can feel better furever!”

 

You blink at the enthusiastic cat troll, and then sigh and smile ruefully. “I don't suppose I can argue wwith that, can I?” You chuckle, then begin with, “I don't knoww if you knoww this, but I'we got a sorta... reputation.” You pause, and Nepeta nods. “Trolls think I'm some sorta philanderer, that I don't care about keepin my quadrants filled, only gettin' them filled, if you knoww wwhat I mean.”

 

“Yeah, Equius told me as much. He... doesn't like you very much.” Nepeta says cautiously.

 

“That figures,” you say, looking off to the side a moment, “Wwait, howw do you knoww Eq?”

 

“He's my moirail!” Nepeta responds with obvious affection.

 

“Wwait,” you say, cautiously, “Isn't this pale infidelity?”  
  


“Is it?” Nepeta questions. She puts her fingers to her chin in ponderment, “I don't think pale infidelity is a real thing. I think you talk about your problems with trolls other than your moirail. You're moirail is more than someone you tell your problems to.” She smiles, satisfied.

 

“I guess,” you say noncommittally, “In any case, the rumors wwere scurrilous lies and slander. At least, wwhere Fef is concerned.” you feel yourself weaken at the mention of her name, but you force yourself to continue, “I really, really pitied her. Wwhen I first saww her, I thought she wwas the most beautiful creature on Alternia. She wwas swwimmin, leapin through the wwawes so fuckin majestically. I obserwed her from atop my lusus, and I wwas smitten. And then suddenly, there wwas a massiwe skywwhale! It wwas goin to kill Fef, so I swwooped dowwn, and gawe the beast a blast from my Crosshairs!”

 

“Crosshairs?” Nepeta asks in confusion.

 

“Yeah, Ahab's Crosshairs,” you clarify, bringing out the super-weapon with a flamboyant flourish.

 

“Ooh,” Nepeta looks on, “Cool,” she smiles simply.

 

After a moment of silence, you exhale, then continue, “Anywway, the beast fell, and floated on the wwater. Fef wwas nowwhere to be seen, but then, the skywwhale started to sink rapidly. After a feww minutes, Fef resurfaced, wwithout the wwhale. So I wwent dowwn and introduced myself. And she smiled and said...” you pause, trying to recall without breaking down again.

 

“Yes?” Nepeta prodded expectantly.

 

“She said, 'Maybe wwe can help each other.'” you sigh, your eyes downcast, “She asked to be my moirail. And I accepted like the fuckin' fool I am. Cod, wwhy did I do that? Wwhy? Wwhy wwhy wwhy?” You begin knocking your head on your knuckles until you feel your hand ensconced in Nepeta's powerful grip.

 

“Eridan. Lotsa trolls make mistakes. It's a pawrt of life. It doesn't make you any more of a fool than me, or her, or anyone,” she gives you a warm smile, “So stop getting down on yourself, and finish your story fur me, okay?” She lets go of your hand, and you look at her cautiously. While her words seem platitudinous in your hear ducts, the warmth of her smile and the encouragement in her expression urge you to continue.

 

“Wwhale, there isn't much more to tell, conchestly,” you shrug, “Wwe wwere moirails for a bit, and then I wwent an confessed my feelings. And she shot me dowwn. And you'we probably heard the rest.” You sigh, eyes once again downcast.

 

“Now, didn't that make you feel better?” Nepeta asks.

 

You look up at her. She's wearing an earnest expression, hoping against hope that you feel better. The corners of your mouth begin to curl up into what may very well be a smile. _Perhaps... perhaps it did._ You complete your smile. It is soft, uncertain, but it is a smile nonetheless.

 

“Yeah, I guess I do,” what surprises you is that you really do feel better. Not by much, but you do feel less dejected. Perhaps you can turn your miserable life around. Perhaps you won't make any more stupid mistakes. _S.S. FefVris_. You wince, but then chuckle at the inanity of it all. Yeah, maybe everything will get better.


	6. VI. In which Nepeta departs from the fishy prince and arranges for another meeting with Equius Zahhak.

You wave to Eridan as he boards his ship and sails back to his hive. He's smiling now, which makes you smile. His sharp, white teeth gleam in the morning sunrise. Or maybe it's just your over-active imagination.

 

In any case, upon his ship receding over the horizon, you dash back to the cave, a silly grin on your face. You feel pawsitively grrrreat! You're gonna stay up all day, you're gonna play tag with Pounce de Leon, you're gonna have all kinds of fun! Because you've totally gotten ofur-

 

Oh. Well, it was a fun feeling while it lasted. As images of Karkat creep back into your head, your morale flags and eventually, you're shuffling back into your cave. But just then, you hear a little _bloop_ noise from your husktop, and upon seeing a message from Equius, you rally a little, trooping over to your computer.

 

centaursTesticle [CT] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

 

CT: D--> Nepeta, are you there?

CT: D--> I was wondering if perhaps you would enjoy a follow-up feelings jam?

CT: D--> Nepeta?

AC: :33< i'm here equius.

AC: :33< id love to have you ofur fur anofur f33lings jam. :33

CT: D--> Actually, I was wondering if you would be interested in a feelings jam here, at my hive.

AC: :33< oh.

AC: :33< sure! i don't think i've efur been to your hive befur.

CT: D--> Yes, that is precisely why I am asking about it.

CT: D--> I am sending along directions now, should you require them.

\-- centaursTesticle [CT] sent arsenicCatnip [AC] the file "Directions AC-->CT.pdf" --

AC: :33< thank you equius!

AC: :33< but i don't think i'll need any directions to your hive.

AC: :33< after all, i am the best tracker efur!

AC: :33< i bet I could find you in my sleep!

AC: :33< in fact, i might be behind you right...

AC: :33< NOW!! X33

CT: …

CT: D--> Nepeta, I nearly swiveled in my chair to see if you were tr001y there.

CT: D--> Luckily, I did not, as doing so may have caused me to spill my milk.

AC: :33< oh noes!

AC: :33< that would have been terrible!

AC: :33< i know how much you like you milk, and i'd nefur want you to spill it. 33:

CT: …

AC: …

CT: D--> Nepeta, if you are guffawing as hard as I am right now, than for the sake of our sides, I suggest we cease this f001ishness.

AC: :33< hehehe!! pawlright, i'll stop it.

AC: :33< so when do you wanna meet?

CT: D--> Would tomorrow be a%eptable?

AC: :33< sure! works fur me!

CT: D--> Then I shall see you then. Good morning, Nepeta.

 

centaursTesticle [CT] has ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

 

AC: :33< good morning equius. :33

 

arsenicCatnip [AC] has ceased trolling centaursTesticle [CT]

 

You look at your husktop, ruminating on your new appointment with your moirail. You grin a little. While it's true that you've never actually _been_ to your moirail's hive, you know that you can get there with your tracking abilities and excellent sense of direction alone!

 

As you walk, fatigued, over to the fur pile, you think of what to say to your moirail when you see him on the morrow. There really isn't anything mew to tell him, except-

 

Eridan Ampurra.

 

That would definitely be something you'd want to tell him about. I mean, you said yourself that there is no such thing as “pale infidelity,” but you're not sure that Equius would feel that way. Besides, it would be nice to tell Equius about your new friend. That you had met once before. And whom Equius doesn't like very much.

 

Well, you'll deal with it all tomorrow. Above all things, Equius wants what's best for you, but he knows when to back off. And you can probably convince him that this is one of those times. Oh, he'll gripe about how “landdweller/seadweller segregation” is a noble institution, and how someone like Ampurra “isn't suitable” for someone like you, as if you'd gone and apounced plans to pair bond with him or something. But you can handle it. And besides, it's all tomorrow; no need to burden yourself with it now.

 

Just before you close your eyes, another thought strikes you. _Wait... he's inviting me ofur to his hive... maybe he wants to talk to me about something_. As you have this thought, your eyes droop, and realizing how tired you are, you decide to put off further pondering until tomorrow. Your furs become infinitely more comfortable as you drift off to sleep.


	7. VII. In which Eridan engages in some dangerous introspection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize again for the late chapter. I had an engagement yesterday.

You've returned to your hive, parked your ship, and trotted up to your respiteblock. It had been an... interesting night, to be sure. And you did feel better, at least a little. _Fuck... Eq is a lucky troll._ You wrinkle your nose a little. _An' her flushcrush wwould'we been a lucky troll to hawe her in their red quadrant_.

 

For the second time tonight, you wonder where that thought came from.

 

“But she's a lowwblood, ain't she?” you mutter darkly. You then look out on the sea outside your hive. The Alternian sun is coming up behind your hive, and it illuminates the water, giving it a brilliant sheen. You put on your sunglasses to avoid going blind.

 

As you gaze out on the sea, you get to thinking. Many trolls have told you that this activity is dangerous. Many trolls meant that as an insult directed at you, personally. But a wise few meant it as a warning against over-thinking things. Who told you thus? You think on it for a moment, and then you realize that it was Wyland who said it. Cool guy, good friend.

 

Nonetheless, you brave the dangers of abstract thought and actually do some introspection. Now you're cooking with charcoal! Now you're getting into the really scary stuff.

 

 _Hmm... Eq is more hung up on the hemospectrum than... wwell, eweryone. Ewen myself_. That thought strikes you, especially when what follows is, _An' he has a moirail. Of a lowwer bloodcaste._

 

You let that realization sink in. Equius is a lot of things. Arrogant, bigoted, racist, somewhat depraved, a freak overall. And yet, he's managed to get over himself long enough to get a moirail. A _lowblood_ moirail. This could mean either one of two things: either they happened to grow up together, and Equius wouldn't know how to live without Nepeta, or... _landdwwellin'_ _lowwbloods ain't so bad_.

 

Now you know you're in dangerous territory. If your seadweller supremacist friends ever, _ever_ , caught you even expressing the slightest hint of landdweller sympathies, they'd likely string you up by your gills. However, the thought that maybe the object of your hatred isn't actually worth hating won't leave your think pan.

 

Some would describe the thought as frightening. But you describe it as... inconvenient. Maybe you're just tired. You make your way over to your recouperacoon, and are about to get in when you hear a _bloop_ from your desk. You look askance at the thing with ire, then move over to it, glaring at it all the while.

 

poseidonsFangs [PF] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

PF: --[ Caligula, are you yeT finished wiTh your excursion?

PF: --[ I Truly do require your counsel wiTh someThing.

CA: i wwas about to go to sleep

CA: make it quick

PF: --[ I shall make sTraighT for The poinT Then.

PF: --[ Do you believe ThaT iT is aT all possible to geT Her Imperious Condescension involved in our crusade againsT The landdweller scum?

CA: thats a fuckin retarded idea

CA: the empress doesnt hawe any fuckin patience for our hoofbeast shit

CA: shes off conquerin wworlds out there

PF: --[ I had ThoughT as much.

PF: --[ NonTheless, I ThoughT iT prudenT To gain your perspecTive on Things.

CA: sure

CA: im goin to sleep noww

 

caligulasAquarium [CA] has ceased trolling poseidonsFangs [PF]

 

He's a cool enough guy, and you feel a pang of regret for being so short with him, but you're really, _really_ tired, and frankly, in light of certain revelations, you don't think it would be a good idea to talk to him for very long at the moment. So you climb up to your recooperacoon, and get in with a _schlorp_. You fall asleep almost immediately.

 

neptunesIncisors [NI] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

NI: --{ Good morning Caligula!

NI: --{ I know You're alreadY asleep, but I cannot help but give You a warning!

NI: --{ I know what You're thinking!

NI: --{ I know what putrid, seditious intuitions float through Your wretched think pan!

NI: --{ So fair warning!

NI: --{ Our CRUSADE will not accept anY such treason!

NI: --{ Sleep lightlY...

NI: --{ Eridan!

 

neptunesIncisors [NI] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]


	8. VIII. In which Nepeta is hopelessly lost, and is assisted by a seadweller in a scuttlebuggy.

You believed in your tracking abilities. They're not helping you now.

 

You believed in your excellent sense of direction. It's not helping you now.

 

You have set out to find Equius' hive. And you are completely, utterly, and hopelessly lost. You've been wandering around these rocky bluffs for quite some time. You had long since given up and attempted to retrieve the directions from your earlier conversation, but your phone doesn't read .pdf files. So you kept moving forward. You had passed by the hives of a few other bluebloods who happened to build their hives out in this arid land. You asked a few of them if they knew where your moirail was; the kinder ones merely brushed you off, the crueler ones drove you away with threats and weapons.

 

So you've been wandering for a long part of the night. _Why haven't I purrned to drive yet? Why don't I have a scuttlebuggy? It would be so helpful right meow!_ You ponder this, wiping the sweat from your brow.

 

Suddenly, you hear a rumbling sound. It's not loud, but it has quite a bit of bass, causing the ground to shake slightly. You stop for a moment, attuning your superior hearing to the sound. It grows louder and louder, the ground shaking more and more.

 

Suddenly, the source of the sound is right on top of you. Or rather, it's right next to you.

 

“Wwell wwell wwell, I didn't expect to see you here, Nep,” Eridan says from his scuttlebuggy. The vehicle is bright violet, with his symbol emblazoned in black on the hood. It's topless, allowing the wind to ruffle his short, striped hair slightly. This one has wheels, as opposed to the hovering model that Equius owns.

 

You would greet him with enthusiasm, if you weren't so fatigued. Instead you settle for a, “Hi, Eridan,” and a weak smile.

 

He gives you a raised eyebrow, “Wwhat the bloody fuck are you doin all the wway out here, Nep?” he asks incredulously, “Wwithout a wehicle or anythin'!”

 

“I'm trying to get to Equius' house,” you say simply. You try to stand up straight, but you're more fatigued than you thought, as you tumble and catch yourself on Eridan's scuttlebuggy. He looks at you curiously, not moving from his position.

 

After you pull yourself up by the side of his vehicle, you see he appears to be in thought. He then sighs with a mild exasperation.

 

“Wwould you like a ride?” he asks evenly.

 

“You'd do that fur me?” you ask, wide eyed.

 

“Yeah,” he says coolly, “It's on the wway to Kan's. Call it payin you back for helpin me wwith my issues.”

 

“Why are you going to Kanaya's purrlace?” you ask, getting into the passenger seat.

 

“'Purrlace'? That's stretchin it, don't you think?” he says with a little chuckle. “One of my scarwes got set on by cloth-bugs, and I asked Kan if she could repair it,” he points to the scarf in the back seat, riddled with holes.

 

“Wait, how do you know where Equius lives?” you ask, perplexed.

 

“He's my ex-kismesis' neighbor,” he says flatly.

 

“Oh,” you're not sure what to say to that. As you continue to ride, you see a few more structures, and eventually, you're passing through what appears to be a town. Most of the buildings aren't much to look at, but soon, you come up upon a pair of large, castlesque structures, the one on the left more gothic than on the right. Eridan pulls up to the one of the right. He takes a moment to glare at the one on the left, a glare that does not go unnoticed by you.

 

“Eridan?” you ask tentatively.

 

“Hm?” Eridan turns neutrally back to you.

 

“Nothing! It's just that you looked like you were mad at that hive,” you say, pointing at the offending structure. Eridan sighs, and presses his fingers to his temples.

 

“Yes. That's where Wris liwes.”

 

“Vwhiskers was your kismesis?” you ask, curious.

 

“Yes. And noww she is not,” Eridan huffs.

 

“I'm sorry if I purrought up bad meowmeries for you,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt, and reaching a hand over. He waves you off.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, wwhatewer,” he sighs, then softens somewhat, “Hawe fun at your feelins jam, or wwhatewer.”

 

“Thank you! And thank you for driving me here! You're such a sweetie,” you tease him, hoping that he won't overreact.

 

“I am not a swweetie!” he says, offended, “An' if I am, it's only 'cause you're sheddin on me,” he sticks his tongue out at you, to which your only response is to giggle.

 

“Well, in that case, maybe we should hang out more,” you say playfully.

 

“Yeah wwell, if wwe do that, I'll rub off on you, an' you don't wwant that, that's for sure,” Eridan says mildly morosely.

 

“Oh, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing,” you say evenly, looking at your claws, “Maybe you can tell me about that accent of yours.” He clams up at the mention of his accent.

 

“...I hawe an accent?” he asks, looking sidelong at you. You, for your part, are stunned. You had no idea that Eridan didn't know about his accent. You mean...

 

“You write it in your typing quirk...” you finish your thought aloud, utterly stupefied.

 

“Yeah, just cause it's awwesome,” he responds haughtily, “But... I've got an accent too?” he looks as though he's crushed by the knowledge.

 

 _Poor thing,_ you think, your heart going out to him, _I didn't mean to make him feel self-pawncsious._ H _e must be so embarrassed._

 

“That is so awwesome!” he shouts, jubilant, “I mean, I kneww I wwas totally cool and stuff before, but noww I hawe an accent to top it off? Fuck yeah!” He thrusts his fist skyward, as you look at him blankly, your think pan connecting the dots.

 

“You mew about your accent, didn't you?” you ask flatly.

 

“Wwell, maybe I had an inklin'” he says with a barely-concealed grin.

 

“You're such a dork!” you give a light sock to his ribs.

 

“Hey hey hey! Wwatch the gills!” he says in alarm. You both giggle for a bit, you more than he.

 

“Well Mister Ampurra, I should probably head in,” you unbuckle your seat-belt and open the door, “But it was nice running into you again!”

 

“A'course it wwas! I'm alwways...” he pauses, “Nice? Wwait wwhat?” He flusters as you giggle madly. “Ugh, wwell, it wwas _nice_ runnin' into you too, I guess. Glad I could help one of lowwer classes an' all that,” he says, blasé and nonchalant, “Anywway, hawe fun wwith Eq.”

 

“Will do!”you wave to him as you approach the entrance to your moirail's hive, just as he drives off.

 


	9. IX. In which Eridan gets his scarf mended by the foremost fashionista in Alternia, allowing the two to engage in a discussion of their respective romantic issues.

You drive off from Equius' hive, your mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions and thoughts. On the one hand, you just helped a landdweller in need. You would never have done that normally, and a part of you screams for you to drive back and cull the insolent gutterblood immediately.

 

On the other hand, this “gutterblood” seems to be the only troll in existence who gives a damn about you. She actually helped you work through your shit, out of the goodness of her pump biscuit, or so it seemed.

 

On the third hand, your friends in the seadweller supremacist group would tear you limb from limb if they knew you had helped out a lowblood landdweller. You happen to be fond of your friends, and even fonder of your limbs.

 

On the fourth hand, she really isn't all that bad. She didn't seem dirty, or scummy, or whatever. A bit sweaty, sure, but anyone would be after walking through this arid landscape. Sure, she isn't very refined, manners-wise, but to be perfectly fair, neither are you. And besides, she's... fun? Yes, she's fun to be around.

 

You clutch your head. _This thin's got wway too many arms noww_ , you think to yourself, casting aside all thoughts relating to certain olive-blood troll, relegating them to a dim corner of your mind to be processed and analyzed later.

 

You focus on your driving. The volcano Kanaya lives near begins to loom in front of you, the red frog temple sticking out like a cancerous growth on the mountainside. You cast your thoughts to the jade-blood for a moment. _Wwell, if wwe're bein honest here... Kan's not so bad either._ You remember that you had once promised that you wouldn't kill her when the time came to cull all of the landdwellers, and that was saying something. You were far more enthusiastic about the whole genocide thing in your youth, and for you, exempting a landdweller from the threat of a horrible death was perhaps an ultimate sign of trust for you. Nowadays, you've cooled down a bit, and while you're still of the opinion that the landdwellers would be better off not existing, you don't usually make a big thing of it.

 

After all, most of your friends are landdwellers.

 

Wait what?

 

You almost stop the scuttlebuggy as the horrid realization hits you. There are quite a few trolls you would consider friends. And they all happen to be landdwellers.

 

 _Noww calm the fuck dowwn, Er,_ you try to reassure yourself, _You hawe loads more seadwweller friends than you do landdwweller friends. Like Wwy! And Wway. Wwell, Wway kinda creeps me the fuck out... so maybe not. Wwell, there's Fef... Wwait, no, she hates my fishguts._

 

You begin to sweat, and not from the desert sun. _Wwell, it doesn't ewen matter. I knoww I'm just lullin' them all into a false sense a security, until..._ Until what?

 

You put aside the uncomfortable question, as you realize you've pulled up to Kanaya's hive. You take a moment to compose yourself before you grab the ragged scarf out from the back seat and get out of your scuttlebuggy. You stride to the door and give it a knock.

 

“I'm Coming! Hold On, Please!” you hear Kanaya's muffled voice call from inside. _Howw the ewerlowin' fuck does she_ pronounce _capital letters?_ Her voice seems to resonate as though she was starting a new sentence with every word, except that instead of being an awkward mode of speech, it seems to place emphasis on every word, as if each one was important in it's own right. Her Troll British accent helps as well.

 

You hear a latch open from inside, and the door swings inward to reveal Kanaya Maryam, wearing her blue dress with the pink string bearing her symbol.

 

“Well Hello Mister Ampora. You're Here About Your Scarf, I Assume?” Kanaya leans against the door frame, awaiting your response.

 

“Uh, yeah,” you say simply. Kanaya lets you inside with a friendly smile. “Thanks again fer doin' this for me Kan. I owwe you one,” you say as you usher yourself inside the beautiful hive.

 

“Think Nothing Of It, Eridan,” Kanaya responds smoothly. As you and she make your way up the stairs to her respiteblock, you notice that she is conspicuously quiet. You attempt to break the ice.

 

“So... Wwhat's up Kan?” you say, hoping she's got something, because you sure as shoals don't. She sighs as she opens the door to her respiteblock.

 

“Well, It's Just...” she starts as she walks in, you in tow, “Well, I Mean... Forget It, It's Nothing,” she finishes lamely.

 

“Hey there Kan,” you say, coming up next to her and putting a hand on her shoulder, “You knoww you can talk to me about anyfin. There's no need to clam up around me.” you assure her. She smiles and turns toward you.

 

“Thank You. I Appreciate The Sentiment, I Really Do. I'm Just Not Sure If It Would Be Appropriate To Ask For Your Advice On This,” she takes your right hand in her right hand, and takes the scarf from it with her left. “Now, Let's Get To Work On This Scarf, Shall We?” You nod emphatically.

 

You sit yourself on Kanaya's bed as you watch her work, her deft hands moving over your scarf as her sowing machine stitches rhythmically away. Your hear ducts perk up when Kanaya speaks over the noise of the machine.

 

“I'm Truly Sorry About You And Feferi, By The Way,” she says. You can tell she's sincere, and while part of you wants to ball up and cry at the mention of your former moirail, your chat with Nepeta in her cave helped you; it allowed you to understand that you can talk about the former object of your adoration without getting to hung up about it.

 

With this in mind, you only sniffle a little before responding with, “It's alright. Wwell, not really, but I'll get ower it. Ewentually,” you pause for a moment, “I had a good chat wwith a friend a mine the other day about this, but there's one thin' still buggin' me.”

 

Kanaya turns off her sowing machine, the noise dying down quickly. “Go On,” she says.

 

“Wwhy?” you ask, as if troll Jegus would come down from on high and answer your question, “Wwhy wwouldn't she reciprocate? Wwas I not good enough, or is it the scarwe, or-”

 

“May I Say Something, Eridan?”

 

You blink a moment, “A' course you can, Kan. I said you don't need to clam up around me, just say it.”

 

She sits on the bed next to you and puts a finger to her chin a moment, pondering her next words. Finally, she says, “Your Moirallegiance Was Rather One-Sided, I Think.”

 

Again, you blink, puzzled at her words. “Wwhat do you mean?” you ask cautiously.

 

“I Mean, It Seemed As Though You Were Doing All The Work,” she clarifies, “You Were The One Who Hunted For Her Lusus All The Time, You Were The One Who Made Time For Her When She Was Feeling Down; It Never Seemed Like She Made Much Of An Effort To Help You With Your Feelings Very Much. It Really Did Seem As Though You Put In All The Work Expected Of A Good Moirail, While She Simply Took It For Granted.”

 

You gape at her for a moment before coming to your former moirail's defense, “Wwell, I suppose, but it's not as if I made my feelins' easy to wwork through or anyfin. And to be perfectly fair, it's not like I wwas the perfect moirail or somethin', I mean, she's carin' and swweet, and ewerythin', and I wwas just... me,” you finish somewhat lamely, sighing. Kanaya puts a hand on your shoulder gently.

 

“My Point, Mister Ampora, Was That You Did Nothing Wrong. If She Didn't Want To Be In Your Red Quadrant, Then That Is Entirely Her Prerogative,” she smiles at you, and you look over at her and smile back a little.

 

“I... I guess your right,” you shift slightly, then ask, “How do you knoww so much about all this stuff?” Kanaya makes a slight noise and avoids your gaze, embarrassed.

 

“W-Well, I...” she starts, then looks down and sighs, “I Too, Know What It's Like To Feel Unrequited Pity. That Last Bit Is What I Tell Myself When I...” she leaves the rest unsaid. The gears in your head begin to turn.

 

“Wwait...” your eyes widen, you nearly leap of the bed as you say in an accusatory tone, “You'we got flushed feelins' fer Fef, don't you!?”

 

Kanaya looks at you for a second or two, utterly dumbfounded, “Wait, What? No, That's Not It At All.”

 

“Oh,” your eyes return to normal, and sit back down, “So, Wris then?”

 

Kanaya's eyes snap open wide as she turns her head toward you, haltingly, as if she doesn't want to face you, but feels she must. Or she's just really surprised. “How... How Did You Know?”

 

“Wwell, you looked like you had somethin' on your think pan earlier, but then you wwere all like, 'It wwouldn't be appropriate,' and then you came out and said you wwere in lowe with someone, so I put twwo and twwo together, an I figured it had to be someone I shared a quadrant wwith,” you grin at your own cunning, and Kanaya grins back.

 

“And Some Trolls Seem To Think You're Unintelligent. Oh, How Wrong They Are, Mister Ampora,” she says with a smirk.

 

“Damn fuckin right they're wwrong!” you say emphatically, “Noww, wwhat did you wwant to talk about concernin' Wris?”

 

“Well, I Mean, If It Isn't Too Intrusive...”

 

“Nonsense, ask awway,” you say sincerely.

 

“Well, Alright Then,” Kanaya steels herself, “I Was Wondering If There Was Perhaps Anything That You Knew She Liked. I Mean, In A Romantic Sense.”

 

“Wwhat, like, faworite datin' spots, faworite foods, faworite positions, thins' like that?” She blushes a bright jade at the last item.

 

“W-Well, Something Like That, Yes. Honestly, I Know So Little About Her From A Romantic Perspective, I'm Grasping At Straws Here.”

 

You nod your head. Just then you remember something that might be important, “Wwait, aren't you her moirail?” Kanaya looks at you sadly.

 

“We Terminated Our Relationship Some Time Ago.” She seems saddened by the memory.

 

“Wwell, I wwould say that I'm sorry to hear that,” you hold up a finger as Kanaya gives you a look somewhere between puzzlement and offense, “but that means you're free to pursue her in the flushed quadrant! Fuck, you might succeed wwhere I floundered like a fuckin' wwriggler!” you smile at her widely, attempting to instill confidence in her with your words. She blinks at you, then smiles slightly.

 

“You're Right, Of Course. And You're Also Correct That, As Her Moirail, I Should Know Quite A Bit About Her Romantic Likes And Dislikes. Alas, She Was Often Too Busy To Engage In A Proper Feelings Jam, So I Don't Know As Much As I Would Like.” She turns to you and takes your hands in hers, “Please, If There's Anything You Can Think Of-”

 

“Don't get your gills in a twwist,” you say, giving a flick of your wrist for emphasis, “Let me think... She really, _really_ like all that pirate shit. I mean, I thought it wwas fun an' all, but she fuckin' liwes it.” You wrack your think pan, trying to come up with any other salient advice. Suddenly, your face lights up as you remember something, and you grin deviously, “Wwell, there is one thing... but I don't knoww if it'll be of use in the present...” You look at your fingernails pretentiously.

 

“Please, Anything Will Help,” Kanaya pleads.

 

“Wwell, since you asked so nicely,” you lean in conspiratorially, “Wris has this thin' about her fingers.”

 

“Her Fingers?” Kanaya raises a quizzical eyebrow.

 

“Yeah, they're actually really sensitiwe, and if you run your tongue across them in just the right wway, she'll melt in your arms,” you giggle at the memories while Kanaya blushes furiously.

 

“Well... That Is Certainly Good To Know,” she says, not meeting your gaze.

 

“Let's see,” you continue, putting a finger to your nose, “Pirates, fingers... You probably know about the wwhole spider kick. She likes role-play, especially FLARP.” You furrow your brow. “I'm goin' to be honest wwith you here, I wwas her kismesis, not her matesprit. I don't really knoww wwhat she wwants in her flushed quadrant,” you shrug.

 

“It Is Perfectly Alright, Mister Ampora,” she grins sideways at you, “I Shall Have To Rely Solely On The Deftness Of My Tongue To Persuade Her To Come Around.”

 

You stare at her a moment, face a blank mask. Then you start to crack. So does she. Soon you both are laughing uproariously on the floor of the room, amongst the discarded fabrics and unfinished clothes.

 

“Oh my cod, I had almost forgotten howw to laugh,” you say, wiping tears from your eyes.

 

“I'm Glad I Could Help You Remember,” she sits up, smiling warmly. You sit up as well, returning her smile.

 

“I didn't think you had it in ya,” you say, giving her a playful sock, “You almost had _me_ blushin' there.”

 

“Were I You, I Would Underestimate My Rapier Wit And Skill With Dry Humor,” she says, returning your punch, “Now, Let's Get Back To Your Scarf, Shall We?” You nod, returning to your spot on the bed as she returns to her sewing machine.

 

The two of you while away the night chatting about nothing and everything, catching up on each others' lives. At some point, a question pops into your think pan.

 

“Hey Kan,” she turns from her work, “Wwhat do you think a' Nep?”

 

“Hm? Do You Mean Nepeta Leijon?”

 

“Yeah. Oliwe-blood, likes meoww-beasts? Eq is her moirail?”

 

“Yes, I Know Of Her. Why Do You Ask?”

 

 _Wwhy_ am _I askin'?_ You silently question. Out loud, you say whilst shrugging, “I dunno, I wwas just wwonderin' about her,”

 

Kanaya grins slyly, “Could It Be That Our Young Sea Prince Has Found That A New Maiden Has Stolen His Aquatic Bladder-Based Cardiovascular System?”

 

“I-It's not like I'm flushed for her or anythin'” you say indignantly, much to Kanaya's amusement.

 

“Just Like One Of Those Troll Animes,” she snickers.

 

“You wwatch troll anime?” you ask, genuinely interested.

 

“I Dabble,” she shrugs, “In Any Case, To Answer Your Question, I Think She's A Sweet, Bubbly Little Ball Of Excitement. Much Like A...”

 

“A meoww-beast grub?” you ask with a grin, which Kanaya returns.

 

“My Thoughts Precisely,” her face falls for a moment, “Though, I Recently Heard From Equius That The Boy She Was Flushed For Rejected Her.” She shakes her head, “A Pity, That. She's A Real Catch. Or She Would Be, If She'd Just Dress A Little Better.”

 

“I knoww, right? Like, that hat a' her's is totally adorable, but that green... thin' she wwears, it hides those great curwes she has,” you notice Kanaya grinning at you, and then you realize that you said all that out loud. A bright violet blush envelops your face rapidly. _Seariously, wwhere the fuck did_ that _come from?_ You've been having a lot of thoughts like that recently, and it's beginning to get on your rumble spheres.

 

“Well, You Certainly Have An Opinion About Her Curves...” she leaves the sentence hanging.

 

“I swwear, I don't hawe any flushed feelins' for her! Seariously,” you cross your arms and pout.

 

Kanaya giggles, “Oh, You Know I'm Just Teasing,” she ruffles your hair, then sits down next to you. “So, I Must Ask, If You Don't Have Any Feelings For Her-”

 

“I don't!” you affirm with a huff.

 

“-Then What Prompted The Question?”

 

“Wwell, that good friend of mine I mentioned wwho I had that chat wwith? That wwas Nep,” you shrug, “I think I met her at a party or somefin a long time ago, but I hadn't seen her until then. And then I saww her again on the wway here.”

 

“Alright, But That Still Most Deftly Avoids Answering My Question,” Kanaya presses. You continue on obliviously.

 

“She wwas out in the fuckin' desert, swweatin' half to death, so I offer her a ride to Eq's place, and wwell, that is that,” you finish.

 

“A Lovely Story, Really. But Why The Original Question?” she's starting to sound just a bit exasperated.

 

“Oh, wwell, I dunno really,” you shrug, “just wwriggled it's wway into my think pan, I suppose.”

 

Kanaya sighs, pressing a palm to her face, smiling despite herself at the inanity. “Well, I Suppose I Should Get Back To Your Scarf,” she says, casting a glance back at you as she rises, “But I Do Believe That Strange Questions Are Not The Only Things... Pouncing On Your Think Pan At The Moment.”

 

You stick your tongue out at Kanaya, and you two go back to talking about whatever. At the break of day, she has finished your scarf. Which is a good thing, as she has left all of the windows open to the encroaching sunlight, and you are beginning to ever-so-slightly bake.

 

“Seariously Kan,” you retrieve your sunglasses with one hand and fan yourself with the other, “I don't knoww howw the efferwescent fuck you can stand this.”

 

She shrugs, “Neither Do I, In All Honestly. If You'd Like To Close A Window Or Two, Feel Free.”

 

You wave your hand, “Nah, it looks like you'we finished anywway, an' I should be getting' back,” you don your sunglasses, your symbol proudly emblazoned upon them like the sigil on a standard. That standard is you. You vain fuck.

 

Kanaya hands you back your mended scarf as you stand, “Well, It Was My Pleasure. Perhaps Someday You'll Let Me Work On That Cape, Hm?” she sidles up to you and gives you bark-beast grub eyes. To her credit, it almost works.

“Hell no!” you pull your cape away with a regal huff, “This cape is twwo awwesome to ewer change!”

 

“But You Would Look So Much More Dashing If You Had It Lengthened,” she frowns at you, “Honestly, It Wouldn't Hurt You To Take My Advice Once In Your Life.”

 

You look at her a moment. You really look at her, more intently than you've ever looked at anyone before, except maybe Feferi. But this time, instead of Troll Romeo-esque flushed pity, there is something else, something that you cannot quite place. You aren't quite smiling, but there's a part of you that wants to, deep inside your collapsing and expanding bladder-based aquatic vascular system. You aren't quite frowning, but the thought of Kanaya upset with you, frowning at you, inexplicably tugs the corners of your lips downward.

 

Kanaya Maryam has been your friend, perhaps your best friend, for more sweeps than you can remember. You two have had your rough spots, and she's put up with far more of your hoof-beast shit than she deserves, and yet she's stuck with you regardless.

 

You are especially thankful for your sunglasses right now. They most adeptly prevent her from seeing your inner monologue.

 

“Yeah...” you nearly whisper, which elicits a concerned expression from Kanaya. Attempting to assuage her, you straighten up and, in your most authoritative voice, assert, “But the cape stays! I mean, I'we had the thin' since I wwas a wwriggler; I can't be changin' it just 'cause some meddlesome, albeit wwellmeanin' troll wwants to try an' improwe upon perfection!”

 

“Oh Please,” she rolls her eyes at you, “You Do Realize That You'd Have Your Quadrants Filled,” she snaps her fingers, “That Fast, If Only You'd Just Let Me Work On You A Bit, Right?”

 

“Wwhat, really?” you whip your head around to find her grinning at you. Attempting to make a smooth recovery, you slowly turn your head back and mutter, “I'm a-hundred percent certain a' that,” you return her grin sidelong.

 

The two of you head back down the stairs, you putting on your scarf despite the blistering heat that you're about to experience. Upon reaching the door, she opens it for you, and you step into the blazing Alternian day.

 

You turn back to Kanaya, “Thanks again for this, Kan,”

 

“Really, It Was No Trouble At All,” she smiles at you.

 

“Wwe should do this again sometime,” you smile back.

 

“That Would Be Lovely,” her smile grows wider.

 

“You free next wweek?” as does yours.

 

“I Believe So, Yes.”

 

“Awwesome.”

 

With little else to say, you climb back into your scuttlebuggy, wave goodbye to Kanaya, and drive off. You're smiling, recalling the night's discussions, from when you walked through the door, until you sauntered back out. You go over the short conversation you and she had as you were standing at the door.

 

“ _You free next wweek?”_

 

“ _... free next wweek?”_

 

“ _... next wweek?”_

 

“ _That Would Be Lovely,”_

 

This time you do stop the scuttlebuggy, eliciting a rather loud squeaking of it's tires. _Holy mother of- I just asked Kan on a paledate._ You clutch your chest, trying to prevent it's contents from bursting, _An' she said yes!_ It's all you can do to stop yourself from hyperventilating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I must dearly apologize for the lateness of this chapter. In point of fact, my entire update schedule may be subject to alteration and upheaval. I could serve you a sob story of how my life has been flip-turned upside down, but the truth of the matter is that school is handing to me my own posterior on a silver platter, in much the same way a server from Chez Robert might serve up a delicious duck quesadilla, fresh from stoves unknown.


	10. X. In which Nepeta regales Equius with the events detailed in V, which causes Equius to engage in minor shit-flipping.

You give the door a few hard knocks, knowing your moirail is likely to be deep within his hive, likely working on robots or sweating over muscle-beasts or something.

 

“I am coming!” you hear his refined, yet somewhat raspy voice, then the loud thumps of his boots. He opens the door, smiling warmly at you, “Hello Nepeta. Did you find this place easily?”

 

“I found it eventually,” you say, smiling back at him.

 

“Well, you've come earlier than I anticipated. If you would wait a few moments while I assemble a worthy pile for us,” he steps aside, welcoming you into his hive. You marvel at the cleanliness of the foyer and the communalblock beyond, and you quickly find a couch to curl up on. Equius retreats to the recesses of his hive, presumably to find a pile.

 

He returns a few moments later, and ejects from his sylladex a plethora of the roundest, smoothest robot parts he could find. You attempt to clamber up on top of the resultant pile, but you slide down the mound of chrome smoothness. Attempting to ascend the pile quickly proves to be an exercise in futility.

 

“Erm,” Equius starts, raising a finger, “Do you require some assistance?” He is already atop the pile, looking down on your efforts.

 

“I can get on this pile myself, thank you!” you declare between pants of exertion. After a full minute or so of fruitless climbing, Equius sighs and extends a hand. You take it begrudgingly, and finally get on top of the pile.

“And what do you say, Nepeta?” Equius asks rhetorically, smugness permeating his words.

 

“Thank mew, Equius,” you say, grumbling.

 

The two of you sit down on the pile. For being a mound of metal and chrome, it is remarkably comfortable, far more than you had though it would. You sit cross-legged, and Equius shifts his body and gently lays his head on your lap.

 

Startled slightly, you muse, “Equius, I think this is the furst time you've ever laid your head on me like this.”

 

“Well, I think I must STRONGLY endeavor to try it more often,” he snuggles, releasing a sigh of content, “You are quite comfortable.”

 

“Aw, thank you Equius,” you smile down at him and run your fingers through his straight, stringy hair. It's matted with sweat, but you don't really care all that much. You really don't. You spend another minute or so playing with his hair before he clears his throat.

 

“So, Nepeta,” he starts, “how are you feeling?”

 

“Eh, I can't complain, I suppose,” you shrug.

 

“Are you still upset over that boy?” he asks, trepidation evident in his voice.

 

“Not as much,” you say, looking up, somewhat wistfully, “I mean, I guess I've come to terms with it. But...” You trail off as Equius fritters.

 

“Nepeta-” You cut him off.

 

“No, you don't need to talk with him,” you anticipated his question, “Honestly, he's not a bad troll, and if he doesn't want to be mine, that's his purrogative.” You try to sound confident, but inside, you're unsure. You want to be over him, but it's hard. It's hard and nobody understands. Except Equius, of course.

 

You decide to head off any more discussion about your broken pump biscuit by asking him about his love life, “How are things with you? Do you have an eye on anyone?” The question seems to startle him, and he begins to sweat. Luckily, you brought towels.

 

“Thank you Nepeta,” he says absentmindedly as you hand him one. After he finishes wiping the sweat away, he recovers his composure and says, “As a matter of fact, I do have someone on my mind.”

 

“Really?” you beam at him, and he smiles weakly, “Who? Tell me, tell me, tell me!” You vibrate with anticipation, holding his head between your hands, your grip becoming stronger as the suspense builds at breakneck speed.

 

“Nepeta please!” he implores, wiggling his way out from your grasp. He lifts his head up slightly as your vibrations die down and your hands drop to your lap, palms up. He settles his head back down, takes a deep breath, and says curtly, “Aradia.”

 

You cock your head and give him a puzzled look, “You know she's a-”

 

“Rustblood, yes.”

 

“And she likes-”

 

“Getting dirty, digging up dusty old things, yes.”

 

“And that-”

 

“Vriska has threatened her life on numerous occasions, yes.”

 

“Then...?” You are genuinely confused as to why he would feel anything for her. She is a great troll, and you really do like her as a person, but she doesn't seem right for Equius at all. Unless...

 

“Wait, is this blackro-”

 

“Red,” Equius says curtly, again, “I am as red for her as can be.”

 

“But... why?” you ask, “I mean, she's great and all, but she doesn't seem like your type.” There is a long silence, and then Equius speaks up.

 

“It started with a short conversation she and I had over Trollian a week or so ago,” he begins, wistfully, “It wasn't very long, only a few moments. But she spoke more eloquently and had manners more refined than any lowblood I've ever encountered. Her manner was impeccable, rivaling, even surpassing many highbloods. I contacted her again some time later, and we had a most delightful conversation,” he pauses, “Well, it was a conversation, at any rate. I'm afraid I may have alienated her somewhat.”

 

“Did you go on about the hemospectrum?” you ask, taking a logical shot in the dark.

 

“Perhaps,” he responds, twiddling his fingers, “But regardless, a day or two later, she trolled me. This gave me a chance to apologize for my behavior, and she said she had forgotten it, which was very gracious of her. We spoke for a while, exchanging interests-”

 

“Please tell me you didn't tell her about your hoofbeast art,” you interject, covering your face with a hand in embarrassment.

 

“Please, Nepeta. I have a bit more decorum than that. I understand very well that not everyone can appreciate fine art the way I can.”

 

“Equius, I don't think anyone can appreciate, 'fine art' the way you can,” Equius rolls his eyes behind his glasses.

 

“In any event, we talked well into the morning, and it was then that I first felt pity for her,” he sighs, “She just seems so... fulfilled. As though she hasn't a care in the world. She's almost everything that I am not, it seems.” He sighs again, this time with sadness. You think for a moment, searching for something that might help him, some way he might win her heart.

 

“Well... You have a great purrotective instinct,” you start tentatively.

 

“Yes?” Equius raises an eyebrow.

 

“And she likes to explore deep, dark, caverns and tombs and whatnot.”

 

“She does,” Equius shifts his head slightly, “Where are you going with this?”

 

“Maybe you should offer to go with her on one of her expurrsions!” you suggest, emphatically. Equius looks at you for a moment.

 

“How exactly, would that help?” Equius asks, brows furrowed.

 

“Oh c'mon, it would give you two a chance to bond!” you say as though it was obvious, “Besides, offering to protect her would give you an excuse to spend time with her, see what else she likes, and stuff!”

 

“Hmm,” he considers, “I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try. But how would I bring it up?”

 

“Just ask her when her next expurrdition is; say you're purrious about it.”

 

“I... suppose that would work,” he says, a little quietly, “Thank you Nepeta.” He smiles up at you and you smile back, scritiching his head, happy you could help him, even if it was only a little.

 

“Nepeta?” he asks, eyes closed in content.

 

“Yes Equius?” you respond.

 

“How did you get here so quickly?” he asks curiously.

 

“Eridan drove me in his scuttlebuggy,” you say innocently. There is only the tiniest of moments between your response and your realization that you just blurted out the worst possible thing.

 

“Nepeta...” Equius' voice carries an edge to it that no threshcutioner's blade can match. Luckily, he doesn't seem to want to move. Your head scritchies have increased in fervor as you attempt to head off the coming storm.

 

“Not the whole way! We met up while I was walking through the desert! It was just a coincidence, honest.”

 

“Hmm,” he scowls, “You expect me to believe that he merely stumbled upon you as you were walking along, minding his own business.” His back arches as he attempts to get more comfortable.

 

“Well,” you shrug, “Yeah.”

 

“Nepeta,” Equius scrunches his face in consternation, “I trust you not to associate with louts like the seadweller-”

 

“His name is Eridan!” you cut him off, annoyed that he won't use the sea troll's proper name.

 

“However,” he goes on, oblivious, “I don't trust him to keep his distance from you.” You huff slightly as he continues what may soon build into a full-fledged tirade, “Besides, it is unbefitting for a landdweller to share a quadrant with-”

 

“What!?” you emote loudly as sheer shock overtakes you, “Who said anything about sharing a quadrant with him?”

 

“Excuse me Nepeta,” Equius raises an eyebrow, “It is not polite to interrupt trolls while they are speaking.”

 

“No, tell me why you think we're in a pawdrent!” you are beginning to get a bit flustered.

 

“Well...” he considers a moment, “You seem STRONGLY inclined to defend him, despite his ill repute.”

 

“Maybe it's because I don't think it's right that he has such an bad reputation!”

 

“Nepeta, there is a reason he has said terrible reputation,” Equius reasons, “You do know of his desire to annihilate all landdwellers, right?”

 

“Well, maybe he just needs someone who understands him,” you venture.

 

“It is statements like that, Nepeta, that make me suspect that you wish to share a quadrant with him,” Equius is cool in the face of your withering moan of exasperation.

 

“And, what if, by some weird miracle of paradox space, I do want to share a quadrant with him? What then, huh?” you challenge, bending over to get your face closer to Equius'.

 

“I would STRONGLY advise against it, Nepeta. He is simply not good for you, in any quadrant,” he pauses, raising a finger to his chin, “Except perhaps in the black quadrant,” he clarifies.

 

“Equius, are you seriously shipping Ampurra and I black right now?” you apply a face to your palm.

 

“Well, I have learned a thing or two from the world's STRONGEST speculator of troll romances,” he offers a wry smile, and despite your frustration with him, you cannot help but laugh out loud.

 

The two of you continue to chat well into the morning, so much that the two of you even doze off. The following evening, Equius awakens before you, makes you a vegetarian breakfast, which you accept graciously, despite your carnivorous nature. You then depart from the hive with one last moirail embrace.

 

You walk perhaps five steps before stopping.

 

“How am I gonna get home?” you groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needs must keep better track of my update schedule. This work will not write itself, no matter how much I wish this chapter did. This one was a Shub-Niggurath to write. In any event, apologies for the late chapter.


	11. XI. In which Eridan turns to a geneticist of a carcinogenic variety for palerom assistance, and manages to deflect the suspicions of his seadweller peers.

You return to your hive, and rush to your respiteblock, panicked and sweatier than Equius. Maybe. Probably not.

 

The very first thing you do is dis-cape, dis-sunglasses, and dis-scarf. The very second thing you do is leap to your chair and get on trollian. You scroll down your list of contacts, hoping against hope that someone, anyone can help you.

 

 _C'mon, someone... Wris? Hell fuckin' no. Kan? Perfect! Wwait, no. Nep?_ You genuinely consider asking Nepeta for assistance, and you just might've, except for the fact that she wasn't on. _That leawes... Sol and Kar. So, Kar._

 

You immediately send a message to Karkat, hoping he won't be too put out with you.

 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA].

 

CA: kar

CA: kar fuckin answwer me

CA: i fuckin need you

CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS IT, FISH-FACE?

CA: thank jegus

CA: kar i think i made a huge mistake

CG: WELL, YOU'VE ALREADY FUCKED UP YOUR ENTIRE QUADRANT-LIFE.

CG: I HONESTLY CAN'T SEE HOW IT COULD POSSIBLY GET ANY WORSE.

CA: i asked kan on a paledate

CG: YOU WHAT?

CG: YOU ASKED KANAYA OUT???

CG: PALEROM?

CG: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?

CA: dead fuckin searious

CA: wwhat the fuck do i do

CG: YOU DO REALIZE THAT KANAYA IS LIKE, THE IDEAL MOIRAIL, RIGHT?

CA: yeah kar wwhy do you think im askin you for help

CG: YOU'VE REALLY GOT YOURSELF INTO A SHITHOLE NOW.

CG: HOW DID THIS EVEN HAPPEN?

CA: its a long story

CA: the point is that ivve got a paledate with the most conciliatory troll I knoww

CA: an i havvent got a single fuckin clue as to wwhat to do

CG: WELL, YOU WERE FEFERI'S MOIRAIL, RIGHT?

CA: yeah wwhat of it

CG: GREAT ASS-GRATING GOG, DON'T YOU REMEMBER ANYTHING FROM THAT?

CA: not reely

CA: ours probably wwasnt the healthiest moirallegiance evver

CG: YOU'RE PROBABLY RIGHT ABOUT THAT.

CG: ALRIGHT, FINE.

CG: I'LL HELP YOU OUT.

CG: ONLY BECAUSE I'D FEEL LIKE UTTER SHIT IF I LET YOU RUIN THIS LIKE YOU RUINED YOUR STINT WITH FEFERI.

CA: thank you so much kar

CA: i wwont forget this

CG: YEAH, WHOOP-DE-FUCKING-DO.

CG: NOW LISTEN CLOSE, BECAUSE I'M NOT GOING TO TYPE ANY OF THIS SHIT TWICE.

 

What follows is a crash course in moirallegiance the likes of which could only have been given by someone as foul-mouthed and brilliant as Karkat. You take notes. Lots and lots of notes. In fact, it shocks you somewhat that the abrasive Karkat, so filled with rage, could possibly know so much about a conciliatory quadrant. If anything, he seems to have gotten less and less conciliatory as the sweeps have gone on. So, you decide to ask him.

 

CA: hey kar this is great stuff

CA: but i got a question

CG: OUT WITH IT THEN.

CA: howwed you get to knoww so much about this

CG: …

CG: HOW THE FUCK IS IT ANY OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS HOW I KNOW THIS.

CA: wwoww kar calm dowwn

CA: if you dont wwanna tell me thats fine

CA: i wwas just fuckin curious is all sheesh

CG: LOOK, THE TRUTH IS THAT I DON'T GET OUT TOO MUCH.

CG: AND THERE ISN'T A WHOLE LOT TO DO AROUND HERE OTHER THAN WATCH FUCKING ROMCOMS AND LEARN FROM OTHER TROLLS' STUPID MISTAKES.

CA: wwoww

CA: im sorry kar

CA: but I gotta ask

CA: just wwhy dont you go out

CA: i mean theres nothin stoppin you

CG: THAT'S MY BUSINESS.

CG: NOW ARE WE GOING TO GET ON WITH THIS FUCKING LESSON OR NOT?

CA: right

CA: sorry kar

 

The rest of the lesson goes along smoothly. Karkat was a veritable wellspring of useful information and insight. Eventually, you exhaust his mine of a mind, and he signs off. By this point, it is around midnight, and you are about to take a nap, having been awake for a whole night and a whole day and being exhausted yourself. And then, as if on divine cue, your husktop emits a little _bloop_ , and one of the people you'd least like to speak to is trolling you.

 

poseidonsFangs [PF] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA].

 

PF: --[ Hello Caligula.

CA: hey pos

CA: wwhats up

PF: --[ I have someThing I wish to discuss wiTh you.

PF: --[ 'Twill Take buT a momenT.

CA: alright

PF: --[ I have heard Tell That you have been fraTernizing wiTh The landdwelling scum quiTe a biT recenTly.

PF: --[ Am I wrong?

CA: wwell

CA: i mean yeah

CA: ivve been chattin them up a bit

CA: but just so that they wwont knoww howw much i hate them

CA: you knoww wwhat im sayin

PF: --[ Mhm.

PF: --[ I undersTand the need for subTerfuge in our campaign.

PF: --[ And iT is a greaT comforT To me ThaT you are able To sTomach Them long enough To carry ouT your coverT operaTions.

PF: --[ BuT I am concerned ThaT you are allowing yourself To become Too...

PF: --[ EmoTionally aTTached To Them.

CA: wwhat

CA: me emotionally attached

CA: scurrilous lies

CA: wwell i did havve a landdwweller kismesis

CA: but i mean surely im allowwed to hate them right

PF: --[ Caligula, you know full well There is a difference beTween riTgheous haTred and caliginous feeling.

PF: --[ However, I happen To know ThaT your ersTwhile kismesis is jusT ThaT.

PF: --[ And so I can forgive ThaT.

PF: --[ However, I ask ThaT you be careful.

PF: --[ There is a peculiar disease going around among The landdwelling scum.

PF: --[ They're calling iT, “friendship”. IT's quiTe caTching, and sympToms are quiTe gruesome.

PF: --[ Please Try noT To conTracT iT.

CA: yeah ill be careful pos

PF: --[ Very well. Good nighT, Caligula.

 

poseidonsFangs [PF] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA].

 

Well, a bit late for that. You've caught that disease from quite a few landdwelling trolls. You feel a little like you might be on the edge of a knife. Wyland is a great guy, but you know just how deadly serious he is about the whole, “annihilating the landdwellers” thing. You gaze at your ceiling for a while. You realize that, yes, you have far more landdwelling friends than seadwelling ones. And they're not bad. Well, Karkat's a bit shouty and you've got pale feels for Kanaya, and Nepeta is-

 

Well, Nepeta is Nepeta. Images of her play on your think pan for a bit; her smile, her curves, the happy, ever-optimistic tone of her voice. It all dances before you like the shadows on the walls of a cave.

 

You shake your head fiercely. _I reely need to get some sleep_. You crawl into your recuperacoon and settle in for a long-awaited nap.

 

neptunesIncisors [NI] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA].

 

NI: --{ Hello hello!

NI: --{ I just wanted to inform You that Your relationships with the landdwelling scum are abhorrent in everY possible waY!

NI: --{ And also that You are a reprehensible specimen of a seadweller!

NI: --{ Your treason will be Your undoing!

NI: --{ A reckoning is coming, Ampora!

NI: --{ And there is nothing You, or Your vile, landdwelling friends can do to stop it!

NI: --{ Sleep well, Ampora!

NI: --{ Sleep well!

 

neptunesIncisors [NI] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this chapter is rather... sub-par. I am literally uploading it from school, which has continued to be the Black Goat of the Woods herself. Thank you for your understanding.


	12. XII. In which Nepeta examines her feelings where Eridan is concerned.

You've finally made it home after a long night of walking the long expanse of the Alternian desert. You didn't get lost this time, being able to retrace your steps. But it was tedious, boring, and you arrived home sweaty and fatigued, more so than from any hunt.

 

 _Should've brought some earphones or something_... you muse, collapsing on your mound of fluffy furs and skins. _Guh... so tired_. Yet, you could not sleep. Not yet, anyway. You're not sure why, but you cannot close your eyes for more than a few seconds before they open of their own accord. So you toss and turn, thinking about the previous night, going over your feelings jam in your head.

 

You smile as you remember helping Equius with his problems, even though you aren't sure whether your advice was helpful. As you go over the night in your head, your face scrunches up as you remember your spat with Equius over Eridan. _Stupid Equius; why would he think I'm red for Ampurra?_ You ponder for a moment, _Just beclaws I think he deserves better than he gets from other trolls_. You roll over on the fur pile. _And his smile reflects the sunlight_. You roll over onto your other side. _And his laugh is purretty and nice to listen to_. You roll onto your back. _And he smells good_. You stare at the roof of the cave for a while.

 

You get up with a little jump, rising to your feet lithely. You rub an itch out of your eyes, and walk about your cave aimlessly for a minute or so. You arrive, almost as though by instinct, at your shipping wall. Looking up, you see your former OTP, still crossed out in black. Though it is still anathema to you, you've conditioned yourself to ignore it as best you can. This time, however, you gaze at it, blinking slowly. There are no thoughts going through your head, no ponderings or musings. You simply stare at your former OTP. You feel nothing. Nothing at all.

 

 _Have I... Have I really gotten ofur him?_ The thought seems novel, but in your pump biscuit, you knew that this would happen. Sooner or later, you'd get over Karkat and move on with your life. But you didn't expect it to happen so soon.

 

 _Ugh, why did I cross it out? It looks so ugly_. You look at the slashed picture critically. _It's not as if I don't have water; why didn't I just wash it off?_

 

You pad away from the wall to fetch some water from your food preparation block. Contrary to popular belief, your cave does come equipped with full amenities, including a fully stocked food preparation block, an ablution block, a laundry system, etc. You grab a basin from a nearby cupboard in aforementioned food preparation block, fill it with water, grab a wall scrubber, and return to your shipping wall.

 

You furrow your brow in determination as you scrub away your former OTP, wiping the spot clean, purifying it, scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing-

 

You stop, startled, as the scrubber breaks in your hand, the wooden back splintering. You stare dumbly at the broken scrubber, then at the wall. The spot is clean, blank, empty. The water runs down the wall, smudging the ships below it, small as they are.

 

 _Huh..._ You discard the scrubber. Looking up at the empty space, a sudden, strange thought pops up in the depths of your think pan. _I wonder if I have any violet?_

 

You put a finger to your chin in thought. You think and think and keep thinking. You've never really been very introspective before, but now, you can't help but think long and hard about your life. About Karkat. About getting over him, and how you felt about him before.

 

You try to pinpoint exactly when you began to truly get over Karkat. You remember a moment when you were happy, truly happy despite your heartache, a moment you associated with a fish prince's gleaming sharp smile retreating toward the morning sun. And you come to a realization. You only really started getting over Karkat when Eridan came around.

 

You remember the day you first really talked to him. Yes, you two had met at a party of some kind way back, but you hadn't really gotten to talk to him meaningfully until the day you tried to rescue him from drowning. You came away from the ensuing conversation happier than you had been in quite some time. You find yourself lying on the floor, reminiscing,

 

You remember his lithe, supple form. You remember his smile, shining in the sun as he sailed away. You remember his haughty, yet soft and pleasing laugh. You remember that flamboyant cape, fluttering in the sea-breeze. A mental image of you batting his cape with your hands as it flutters makes you double over in laughter momentarily, wrenching you from your memories.

 

 _Oh gog_ , you lock up as you realize that Equius was right. _I'm red for Ampurra_. You'd think a revelation would make you flip out a bit, like you did when you had a similar realization about Karkat. However, this time, you don't freak out at all. You just gaze at the wall, visions of Eridan dancing in your head. Not literally. Alright, now literally. You chuckle at the thought. _I wonder if I can get Ampurra to dance fur me_... you shake your head vigorously, dispelling the visions and clearing your head.

 

 _I'm red, for Eridan Ampurra_. You begin to pace your cave, _But why now? Right after I've gotten ofur Karkat._ You're walking towards the back of your cave. _I mean, am I even ready for a red relationship, right after I've gotten ofur Karkat?_ You stoop to pick up some paint. _Maybe, but what would Equius say?_ You walk back to your shipping wall. _I mean, Eridan is nice, and he's pretty attractive, but I barely know him._ You dip your fingers in the paint. _He has a bad reputation. I mean, it's not deserved, but still._ Your fingers drag across the wall, painting a new picture. _But the most important question is... does he feel the same way?_

 

Your eyes widen and your hand shakes a bit as you consider the last question. The most important question. The end-all question.

 

It is at this moment, that you look up at the picture you just painted with your own paws. All such toxic introspection and harmful thought comes to a screeching halt. In that moment, you realize that you're acting horrendously out of character, and that you need to calm down a little. A yawn escapes your protein chute and you realize just how tired you are. _So what if I'm rrred for Ampurra_ , you smile a little and shrug your shoulders, working out the kinks that came from having your arms in the air while painting. _It's not like I'm going to pair pond with him of anything. And besides,_ your smile drops ever-so-slightly, _If he doesn't feel the same way, I'll get ofur him; after all, I got ofur Karkat, right?_

 

With a nod, you turn back to your pile animal furs, pad circles on them, arch your back, and go to sleep, the new ship on your wall clear as crystal in your mind.

 

You did indeed have violet paint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am deeply sorry for the unanounced hiatus this story has taken. Quite a few things managed to cascade toward one large block for this chapter, almost like the Magic: the Gathering mechanic of the same name. Chalk it up to a cluster of midterms, which transitioned into acute writer's block. Again, many apologies.


	13. XIII. In which Eridan prepares for his paledate.

You stand in front of the long vanity mirror in your ablution block. You've just showered, fanned your fins in a flattering manner, and chosen a very fetching violet brocade doublet, along with a clean-pressed pair of black slacks. But now, the critical moment has arrived. Now, as you stand in front of this mirror, you judge yourself for all you're worth. In this moment... you must decide on a cape to wear.

 

To the untrained eye, or the uncultured oink-beast, all of your capes are the same. But there are all sorts of variations between your many capes; this one is deep violet and made of felt, that one has a wool inside, and the one over there has a slightly higher collar than the others...

 

 _Wwhich one, wwhich one, wwhich one?_ You hold up cape after cape in front of you, fretting more than a meow-beast over the well-being of her cub. _The length on this one is nice, but this one is more flatterin' around the neck, ooh! This one's got a shiny gold chain on it! Wwait, too gaudy_.

 

You frown and furrow your brow, as your choices narrow down, a pile of capes lying in the corner of the ablution block. _Heh, if this wworks out, wwe can hawe feelins' jams on a pile a' capes._ You giggle like a schoolgirl, then catch yourself long enough to glance at the clock on the wall. _Oh cod, it's almost midnight already!_ In a panic, you throw on the cape you've got in your hands, and rush out the door, giving your lusus a hurried goodbye. Your scuttlebuggy awaits you on the driveway, and you climb in, strap on the safety harness, and start driving.

 

As you drive, you give yourself over to that one activity you've partaken of quite often as of late: introspection. _Cod, Kan is goin' on a paledate... wwith me._ You begin to sweat a bit. _I mean, I knoww I'we got issues,but wwhat could she possibly need me to help her wwith?_ The circular steering apparatus becomes slick with the sweat of your palms. _An' she's the most fuckin' conciliatory troll ewer; I mean, she must be to put up wwith my hoofbeast-shit._ Your face assumes the grimace of one who is being held to an extremely high standard, probably self-imposed. _I mean, I couldn't ewen make my moirallegiance wwith Fef wwork, and she's the only troll I can think of wwho's more conciliatory than Kan is._ You stop yourself for a moment, catch your breath. _Wwell, to be fair, I wwas red for her at the time. Maybe this is different._ You stop sweating long enough to gaze out at the expanse of desert before you. You remember the little smile she carried as you left her hive the other day. The memory fills your collapsing and expanding aquatic vascular system with warmth.

 

 _Yeah, this'll wwork out._ Her hive comes within sight, the mountain looming large, but gently, as the frog head fondly regards creation. You smile as you close the distance. At some point, you realize something novel. You never questioned whether or not you were pale for Kanaya. It seems, in retrospect, obvious. You remember the feeling that overtook you when you gazed at her the other night. It was far different from what you felt for Feferi, and yet similar. Like a different species of the same genus, or something.

 

The major question, of course, is: Does she feel the same way? Looking back, you realize that her smile could have been just that, her invitation, an invitation just to hang out. You almost begin to sweat again, only to steady yourself just in time to pull into Kanaya's driveway. _I suppose wwe'll find out noww, wwon't wwe?_


	14. XIV. In which Nepeta receives a message from Karkat Vantas.

You wake up feeling far more refreshed than is normal. This is partly because of a truly sound sleep, and partly because you've woken up at approximately midnight. You are only mildly concerned; you never kept much of a strict schedule. Waking up early was always just a result of your natural rhythm.

 

You rise stretching, a sleepy yawn escaping your maw. You get up and shuffle tiredly over to your food preparation block to eat something. _Is it breakfast or lunch? I dunno..._ You ruminate on the proper term for a breakfast meal taken at lunch time for a while before electing to have a bowl of Wheat-Based Flakes Coated in Sugar-Based Frosting Substance.

 

You're deep into your meal, face a visage of sugar-induced bliss, when you hear a _bloop_ from your husktop in the other room. You ignore it and continue eating, when you hear another _bloop._ You furrow your brow, concentrating on eating. A third _bloop_ makes you rise, bringing your bowl with you to your desk in the other room.

 

You jiggle the squeak-critter a bit to turn off the screen-saver, and as though you had a jumpscare inflicted upon you, you leap, startled, in your seat. The messages are from Karkat.

 

You hover the pointer over his name. _What? Not now, not now!_ A large part of you wants to open the chat window to see his messages, but you fear what they may contain. You take a deep breath. _Calm down, Nepeta. He's already rejected you. What more could he do?_ Your think pan comes up with a dozen worse things he could say, but with a shake of your head, you exile such thoughts. Steeling yourself, you click on his screen name.

 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

 

CG: HEY NEPETA.

CG: I NEED TO TALK TO YOU. YOU THERE?

CG: NEPETA? DAMN IT, I REALLY NEED TO TALK TO YOU.

 

Well, nothing too horrible. He wants to talk? Fine, you'll talk to him.

 

AC: :33< hey

CG: OH. HEY.

CG: LOOK, I JUST

CG: I JUST WANTED TO SAY I'M SORRY.

 

He's apologizing? For what could he possibly be apologizing for? On your guard, you type a response.

 

AC: :33< fur what?

 

Well, you never said it would be a long, poignant or even an overly inquisitive response.

 

CG: FOR THE OTHER DAY.

CG: WHEN I LET YOU DOWN.

CG: I MEAN, I'M NOT SORRY FOR LETTING YOU DOWN, I MEAN

CG: GOD DAMN IT.

CG: I'M SORRY FOR THE WAY I LET YOU DOWN I GUESS.

 

You look at your screen, blinking once or twice. Yes, he “let you down” over Trollian, but you don't think he needed to apologize for that. But...

 

CG: IT WAS REALLY SHITTY OF ME TO REJECT YOU OVER FUCKING TROLLIAN.

CG: AND I'M SORRY.

AC: :33< then why did you do it that way?

CG: LOOK, WE'RE NOT FUCKING WRIGGLERS ANYMORE. WE ARE GROWING INTO ADULTHOOD LIKE AQUA-GRUBS GROWING INTO FUCKING CROAKBEASTS.

CG: I'VE KNOWN ABOUT YOUR CRUSH ON ME FROM THE DAY AFTER WE MET.

CG: BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO APPROACH THE SUBJECT BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO RISK A CONFLICT.

CG: BUT I REALIZED THAT I'VE GOT TO MAN UP AND TAKE CHARGE OF MY LIFE.

CG: AND I COULDN'T LEAVE YOU HANGING ANY LONGER.

CG: AS FOR WHY I JUST HAD TO GO AND LET YOU DOWN IN LITERALLY THE SHITTIEST WAY POSSIBLE, WELL...

CG: THAT'S WHAT I'M APOLOGIZING FOR, I GUESS.

CG: I'M SORRY.

AC: :33< well, thank you

AC: :33< but why couldn't you just come ofur here to tell me?

CG: MAYBE BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU FUCKING LIVE?

AC: :33< you don't?

CG: I HAVEN'T THE SLIGHTEST FUCKING IOTA OF A CLUE AS TO WHERE YOUR HIVE IS, NEPETA.

AC: :33< oh

 

That's odd, you could've sworn you had told him where you live. In fact, you seem to remember that he had visited once or twice.

 

CG: LOOK, REGARDLESS, I'D LIKE TO STAY FRIENDS WITH YOU, AND I FELT REALLY SHITTY LEAVING THINGS AS THEY WERE.

CG: I UNDERSTAND IF YOU NEVER WANT TO SEE MY PUSTULENT FACE AGAIN.

CG: I JUST HOPE YOU CAN POSSIBLY FIND IT IN YOUR PUMP BISCUIT TO FORGIVE ME.

 

You can't help but smile at your screen, at least a little. Of course you'll forgive him.

 

AC: :33< of course i'll furgive you

AC: :33< even if you are a big nooksniffing silly sometimes :33

CG: DID YOU JUST?

CG: HEH, YOU KNOW WHAT? I DESERVE THAT.

 

The two of you chat for quite a long time, about everything and everything. It's just like old times, except that Karkat is... nicer? He's using fewer swears, and he's generally less abrasive, easier to talk to.

 

CG: HEY, WHAT TIME IS IT?

AC: :33< don't you have a time-teller?

CG: MINE'S BROKEN.

CG: STUPID SOLLUX THOUGHT HE COULD FIX IT, BUT HE JUST MADE IT WORSE!

CG: AS LONG AS IT HAS A POWER SOURCE, IT MAKES THIS HORRID SCREECHING SOUND, LIKE THE KEENING CRY OF A THOUSAND FUCKING ANGELS!

AC: :33< well, it's about 5:00

CG: OH CRAP.

CG: I HAVE TO GO, I'LL TALK TO YOU LATER, ALRIGHT?

 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] has ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

 

Well, that was abrupt. Nonetheless, it was an enjoyable conversation; it almost felt as though you had made an entirely new friend.

 

 _Should I tell him about Eridan?_ You ask yourself distractedly as you close your husktop. _Nah_ , your think pan goes through several images of an angry, shouty Karkat, and while it is a little bit adorable, you'd rather not set him off needlessly.

 

 _Nah, no need to tell him unless it comes up in casual conversation or somefin_. You stop when you realize that you just used a fish pun, then giggle madly.

 

Tonight was a good night.


	15. XV. In which the events of Eridan's paledate with Kanaya Maryam are described.

_Alright, Er. It's not that hard... Just wwalk up to Kan's door, and knock. She's expectin' you, Er! C'mon, Er..._ You try your damndest to gather up the nerve to knock on Kanaya's door, but your fist hovers uselessly in front of your face, shaking slightly. You're not even sure why you're so nervous. You rationalize your nervousness in a dozen different ways, but it all sounds hollow in your think pan. In the end, you're forced to accept the fact that you are nervous simply because you are, in fact, really,  _really_ pale for Kanaya, and you've got flutterbies in your digestive chamber.

 

Quite a shocking revelation, really.

 

Sighing at your silliness, you finally knock, somewhat listlessly, on the door. You then straighten up, and await your date. With Kanaya. Conciliatory troll championess. You're starting to sweat again. Maybe this was a bad idea; you can still turn around, tell her you got sick and-

 

She's just opened the door. She's wearing a black dress, a simple affair, with her symbol modestly emblazoned on her left shoulder. It looks like it could double as either around-the-hive wear or formal attire, and still yet make the troll it adorned look amazing. That's Kanaya for you, you suppose.

 

She looks over you a moment before snickering, a large grin forming behind a hand that does absolutely bugger-all to hide it. You cock in eyebrow in confusion and ask somewhat defensively, “Erm, Kan? There somefin funny?”

 

“I'm Sorry Eridan, But...” she chuckles a bit, “What In Gog's Name Are You Wearing?”

 

“Wwhat, this?” you look down at your doublet and tug on it, examining it critically.

 

“Yes, That!” she chortles, “It's Like I've Gone Back To The Troll Italian Renaissance.”

 

“Hey, this is my best doublet!” you say indignantly. There is a moment of silence as you attempt to retain your expression of righteous outrage, while Kanaya smirks at you, leaning against the doorframe. You fail to remain indignant. “Yeah, I guess it is kinda stupid,” you sigh.

 

“Now Now, Mister Ampora, I'm One-Hundred Percent Certain I Can Stitch Something Infinitely Better For You Before The Date Is Through,” she moves to walk inside, when you sigh with relief. She turns back to you and asks, “Is Something The Matter?”

 

Your head pricks up, “No no, nothin's wwrong at all!” you hold up your hands, palms out defensively, “I just thought that...”

 

“I Was A Tad Ambiguous When I Said That I Wanted To See You Again And You Were Worried That This Was Meant To Be Merely A Platonic Get-Together?” Kanaya smiles at you smugly.

 

“Y-yeah,” you look at her dumbstruck. _Wwow. I kneww she wwas good at understandin' a troll's thoughts and all, but I didn't knoww she wwas fuckin' psychic to boot._

 

“Coming, Mister Ampora?” she's gone inside the hive, and is looking back at you, still smiling.

 

“Er, right! A' course,” you stammer nervously, walking in after her.

 

As you walk into the foyer of the hive, following Kanaya's graceful saunter, you are taken in by a sort of herbal aroma. It wafts throughout the place, filling you with a sense of peace. And cherries. Mostly cherries.

 

“Wwhat is that delightful smell?” you inquire as you walk into the communalblock

 

“That Would Be The Teapot. I Imagine You Like Cherries?” Kanaya walks to the back of the hive, and returns with a tea set, much like the one-

 

“Hey, Nepeta has one a' those,” you muse, taking a seat on the couch in front of a glass coffee table. Kanaya then kicks you lightly in the shin, tea set still in hand. You raise your head, to see Kanaya looking at you, a mixture of genuine confusion and mild amusement playing on her features.

 

“Why, Mister Ampora. Why Ever Would We Relegate Ourselves To The Couch When I Have A Perfectly Good Pile In My Respiteblock?” she grins. You gulp as the sweat flows down your head in rivulets. Nevertheless, you follow her up to her respiteblock. You open the door for her, like a proper gentleman. And you see the pile that Kanaya has assembled; it comprises entirely of what can only be described as stitched bags of fluff. Upon seeing the pile, in all it's alluring, comfy glory, you forget everything that Karkat tried to teach you.

 

Your head starts to spin, as you have no idea what to do. You vaguely recall walking into the room, almost as if on auto-pilot, silently, rigidly. You hear Kanaya ask you something, concern in her voice, but she is so far away. Your think pan rushes around the room, searching for something familiar to latch onto. And suddenly- the room stops spinning, Kanaya is in front of you, worry marring her features, but that is not what has snapped you from your stupor. It's the music. It's Classical, Troll Giovanni to be precise. You find yourself trying to remember which piece it is, but as you listen further, you're simply drawn in by the relaxing notes, wafting through the air, much like the scent of the tea, carried by your palecrush, save for its destination.

 

You look back at Kanaya and smile warmly, genuinely. “Nice music. Wwhich piece is it?”

 

Kanaya blinks at you. She's set the tea down in order to give you her full attention. Recovering, she takes a short step back and says, “Erm, I'm Not Sure. Aradia Gave Me A Tape Of Classical Music A While Back,” she moves back to retrieve the tea set, “I Simply Thought It Would Be Apt For A Feelings Jam.” She sets the tea down on a small table next to the pile.

 

“By the by,” you ask, approaching the pile tentatively, “Wwhat are these thins' you'we piled up here?”

 

Kanaya looks back at you, “I Was Uncertain At First; I Simply Had An Abundance Of Spare Fabric And Fluff-”

 

“Fluff?” you snicker.

 

“Cotton, Down, And Such,” she clarifies “And For Some Reason, I Decided That I'd Rather Have All Of This Loose Material Together, Instead Of Strewn All About.”

 

“Right, but wwhat are these called?” you ask, poking one curiously. It is soft, and slightly fuzzy, like felt.

 

“Oh. My Sylladex Refers To Them As 'Pillows',” Kanaya turns to the tea pot and pours out one cup, and then another. Meanwhile, you attempt to carefully sit on the pile. You fail, and you fall deep into the pile with a _phloomph_. A pillow covers your face as it falls from a point higher in the mountain of comfort. Luckily, Kanaya is there to remove the pillow from your face. She's smiling as she tosses the pillow up and places a cup of the sweet-smelling tea into your hands.

 

“Thanks Kan,” you smile sheepishly before taking a sip of the tea. It is different from the tea you had whilst in Nepeta's cave, but still delicious.

 

“No Problem,” she sets herself down next to you. Rather, she tries to set herself down next to you, only to suffer a fate similar to your own. Luckily, your natural dexterity, combined with twenty/twenty hindsight, allows you to catch Kanaya's cup without spilling too much, as she tumbles backwards with a slight cry of surprise.

 

She rises from the pile like a bog wraith, scowling as you hand her the cup in smug silence. She merely grunts in scant thanks as she takes a sip.

 

She's the first to emit a light giggle. Then you chortle a little. And before either of you know it, you're both laughing uproariously, doing your best not to spill your tea in your humor-throes.

 

“Right,” Kanaya lets loose a last little giggle, wiping a tear from her eye, “Now That That's Over, Is There Anything You Would Like To Talk About?”

 

You take an exaggeratedly long sip from your tea cup because you really like the tea, and are not at all trying to buy some time to think of something interesting to say. _Wwell, she more or less knowws all my problems_... You tilt the cup back a little more as you consider doing something you've never really considered before.

 

You finish your sip and look at her, “Wwell, you'we heard me spill my fuckin' guts about my issues already. I figure it's your turn,” you smile at her as she stares back at you. And suddenly, her head is resting on your lap, a sigh of content escaping her lips, as you gingerly set your tea down near the pile.

 

“Hm.” she closes her eyes.

 

“Wwhat?”

 

“I Had Thought Your Legs Would Be Far Bonier Than They Are,” she shifts her weight, “But They're Actually Fairly Comfortable.” She glances askance, “Black Slacks? With That Doublet? Really?”

 

“Wwell... It seemed like a pretty fuckin' good idea at the time,” you scratch the back of your head sheepishly.

 

“I Would Be Happy To Fashion You Something Far Better For You... As Soon As This Pile Stops Being So Damn Comfortable.”

 

“Yeah, this pile might'we been a bad idea, in hindsight,” you look down at the jade-blood in your lap, so calm, so at peace. You ponder for a moment, wondering if you can ever achieve such a peace as she has found in her stitching, and her botany, and in the light of the sun. You remember your lagoon near your hive, and you remember flying in the dark Alternian sky on your seahorse lusus, and you wonder if perhaps the peace Kanaya has found is closer than you think.

 

This pile is way too comfy. It's starting to get to your think pan. You distract yourself by running your fingers through Kanaya's short, perfectly maintained hair. In your fingers' wanderings, they come across Kanaya's right horn, the one that doesn't look like a sting-bug's tail. You run your fingers along it, thoughtless, oblivious, until you hear a moan from the girl in your lap. You freeze for a moment, startled. She makes a noise akin to a balloon deflating.

 

“Mhr, Why Did You Stop?” she looks up at you, minor annoyance playing across her features.

 

“I-I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be so forwward, I-” you stammer.

 

“Eridan, I'm Not Asking You To Stop. Quite The Opposite, Actually,” she raises an eyebrow, “Have You Never Done This Sort Of Thing With Feferi?”

 

“Argh!” you groan in near-frustration, “Eweryone assumes that just cause I'we been in _one_ moirallegiance, that I must knoww wwhat to do in one! I mean, my relationship wwith Fef wwas pretty fucked, all thins' considered! Wwith her usin' me and I hawin' differin' expectations and-”

 

You cease your ramblings as soon as you feel a smooth, cool hand on your face. You look down to see that Kanaya has reached up to pap you on the face, and you blush for totally unrelated reasons.

 

“Er, thank you,” you look away, violet still blooming on your face.

 

“Perhaps We Should Talk About Your Difficulties First,” Kanaya suggests.

 

“No! I'we got nothin' all that neww to share, really,” you put your hand on her's, rather tentatively, “I wwanna hear about your problems.” You are surprised that you really do want to listen to her. You want nothing more than to help Kanaya in any way you can, with whatever issues you can. _Cod, I'we got it bad for her. I'm paler than a rainboww drinker under a floodlight_.

 

She smiles at you and returns to laying on your lap, as peacefully as a pond undisturbed. A few moments pass.

 

“Eridan?”

 

“Erm, yeah Kan?”

 

“May I Please Have Horn Rubs?” she asks evenly, not turning her head toward you directly. You gulp nervously, then apply your fingers to her right horn again. The action elicits a coo of content from Kanaya, as she relaxes in your grip.

 

“Thank You, Eridan,” she sighs, a little smile tugging at her lips.

 

“Uh, yeah. No problem Kan,” you continue ministering to her horn, as her breathing deepens. The only thing letting you know that she hasn't fallen asleep is the occasional emote of pleasure.

 

“I Still Have Not Spoken With Vriska,” she says eventually.

 

“Oh?” you're still rubbing her horn, visual focus fixed on a particular curve in its color pattern.

 

“I Simply Don't Know What To Say To Her! What, Do I Say, 'Hello Vriska, It Turns Out I'm More Red For You Than A Tomato Covered In Cholerbear Blood! May I Lick Your Fingers?'” As her exasperation becomes more evident, you increase the fervor in your horn rubs, causing her to arch her back slightly.

 

“You could just... ya knoww, ask?” you suggest.

 

“Ah, How Did You Become So Skilled At That?” Kanaya skillfully non-sequitors.

 

“Wwhat, the horn rubs?” you laugh sheepishly, “I hawen't a clue. I'we newer done this before.”

 

“Well, You're A Natural, Mister Ampora. I Feel So Very Comfortable Right Now, Between You And These Things,” she places a hand on a pillow, spreading her fingers over it.

 

“Right... Wwell, like I wwas sayin', wwhy don't you just talk to her? You'we got her Trollian handle; that's wwhat it's fuckin' there for!”

 

“Weren't You Listening? I Wouldn't Know What To Say To Her!”

 

“Ask her if she wwants to hang out an' see wwhere it goes from there!”

 

“But What If I Ruin It?”

 

“Look, Wris may be a fuckin' bitch from the eighth Stygian Hell, but I knoww her. If she wwas gonna let you dowwn, she'd still wwant to be friends, at least,” you smile in a manner you can only hope is reassuring.

 

“Really?” she asks skeptically.

 

“Wwell...” you think back to your wonderfully horrible times with the mad spidertroll. You dredge up everything you can from your think pan regarding her personality, all so as to vindicate what would otherwise be a lame platitude.

 

“I think...” you begin, pause, think a moment longer, and continue, “She needs you.”

 

“What Do You Mean?” Kanaya looks up quizzically.

 

“Howw long wwere you twwo moirails?”

 

“For Many Sweeps. Why?”

 

“She wwanted to keep you around for some reason, I'm thinkin'. Wwho ended up breakin' things off?”

 

“It Was Mutual. At Least, I Believe So,” Kanaya trepidates.

 

“Really?” You're going out on a limb here, but you know Vriska, and you'd like to think you know Kanaya pretty well. You know that they would likely each perceive quite different situations. Kanaya would likely have tried to leave things off as amicably as possible, and her sheer determination to do so might have left her blissfully oblivious to her erstwhile moirial's misery. Meanwhile, Vriska would probably have tried to keep the moirallegiance alive for as long as possible; Vriska always hated losing things, be it an object or, indeed, a troll. The conversation was probably something akin to a great oceanic storm, its waves breaking against a massive, unbreakable cliff. Hurricane Vriska dashing herself against the levies of Kanaya city, her citizens completely unaware of the devastation outside their homes.

 

With that not-quite-apt metaphor in your think pan, you spring the trap, “Think back, Kan. Wwhat did Wris say to you wwhen you suggested that you split?”

 

“She... She Said She Wanted To Stay With Me. But I Couldn't Stay Her Moirail, It Wouldn't Have Worked-” You give her horn a little stroke at the tip; this seems to calm her brewing hysteria.

 

“Look, I'm not sayin' you made the wwrong decision; Cod knowws that if I had ended thins' wwith Fef before thins' got as bad as they did, I wwoulda' sawed myself a wwhole glub of a lot of trouble,” you smile understandingly, “But noww I'we got to ask, wwhen wwas the last time you talked to her?”

 

She shifts uncomfortably, “Several Weeks,” she responds quietly.

 

“Good Cod, Kan,” you sigh, and apply a palm to your face, “You're newer goin' to get anywwhere wwith Wris unless you actually _talk_ to her.”

 

“I Know! But-”

 

“No! No excuses. You're going to talk to Wris as soon as possible!” riding your high skyhorse, you attempt to rise, until you remember that you're sitting on the most comfortable pile ever, and also that you've got a troll in your lap. “Wwell, after this feelins' jam,” Kanaya grins at you as you settle back into the pillows.

 

The two of you stay there for a few minutes, basking in fluffiness and sheer luxuriousness of the pile. You quietly massage the horns of the troll in our lap, smiling as you listen to her breathing, her chest rising and falling slowly. The music of Troll Giovanni's music has left the room, unbeknownst to you, and Troll Chopin has taken his place on the music player.

 

In the midst of this unparalleled comfort and languor, Kanaya stirs.

 

“Eridan?”

 

“Yes Kan?”

 

“I Thirst,” she waves her hand vaguely.

 

“You're goin' to hawe to get up if you wwant your tea,” you cease your ministrations as she rises from your lap with a rather unladylike noise. She leans over and retrieves her tea cup, taking a sip.

 

“Bluh!” another unladylike noise, this one far more abrupt and sure of cause.

 

“Wwhat's wwrong?”

 

“The Tea's Gone Cold,” she looks at the tea cup with a scowl. You look to your tea cup, pick it up, and take a sip. She's right, but the chill doesn't reduce the quality of the drink. If anything, it seems to improve the taste.

 

“Huh. This ain't half-bad,” you mutter.

 

“What? How Can You Stand Cold Tea?” Kanaya's disbelief is almost palpable, which is strange, this being something so trivial.

 

“Maybe I just prefer iced tea to warm tea,” you reply evenly.

 

“Well, That's All Well And Fine,” Kanaya refills her cup with fresh, hot tea, “But You're Drinking Cold What Was Previously Hot Tea. Seriously, How High Do You Have To Be To Try Something Like That?”

 

“High on pale pity, that's howw high.” Silence. Then, Kanaya bursts with laughter, clutching at her sides. You roll your eyes at her, and cross your arms in a haughty huff.

 

“My God, Eridan. That Was Terrible,” she continues to chuckle, “But It Was Rather Adorable.”

 

She smiles at you. And you at her, eventually. She takes another sip of her tea, looking at you over the brim of her cup. The two of you lock eyes, and then she lowers her cup, slowly. She smiles at you coquettishly; she pats the space next to her, and you scoot over to her side. She looks at you expectantly, but you are not sure what it is she wants.

 

“Erm,” you hesitate, “I'm not sure wwhat I'm supposed to-”

 

Before you can get out another word, she's wrapped her arm around your midsection, and with surprising strength, pushed you so that you're laying on her lap. Your head spins for a moment as your think pan tries to process what just happened. Once your vision settles, you see Kanaya smiling down at you, an eyebrow raised slightly.

 

“Oh,” you look into her eyes, “You coulda' just told me,”

 

“Perhaps. But You Will Agree That My Way Was More Fun,” she runs her fingers through your shock of hair, and you sigh with growing calm. You feel more relaxed than you have in sweeps as her fingers light upon your scalp, as they tangle themselves in your hair, only to extricate themselves to make another pass through your black hair striped with violet. The silence grows as your personal tranquility grows. But eventually, Kanaya breaks the silence.

 

“So, How Are Things?” she scritches your head a little, eliciting a quiet coo from you.

 

“Much better than yesterday, I'll wwager,” you open an eye previously closed, and grin up at her, “After all, I'we got the most fashionable, most graceful troll I knoww giwin' me head rubs. Wwhat more could I wwant?”

 

“That Is Very Sweet, Eridan,” she smiles warmly, “But I Was Referring More To Things In General. Are You Still Upset About Feferi?”

 

You not-quite sneer, “Nah, I'm fine. Been focusin' on other thins', you knoww?”

 

“Oh?” Kanaya raises an eyebrow slyly, “Would These 'Other Things' Involve A Certain Olive-Blooded Troll We Both Know?”

 

“Alright, I gotta ask: wwhy are you so conwinced that I'we got a thin' for Nep?” you open your eyes to look at Kanaya, who is looking down at you with a look of what can only be described as “well-meaning condescension”.

 

“Oh, No Reason. It's just That She Trolled Me The Other Night,” she looks like she knows something you don't know.

 

“Really?” you totally keep cool, “Wwhat did she tell you?”

 

“Only That She Wanted To Ride Your Bone Bulge,” Kanaya could not be any more even if she were the number two, no more neutral if she were Troll Switzerland, no more toneless if she were one of Equius' robots. You lose your cool immediately.

 

“Wwhat?!” you would rise on wings of incredulity, but for Kanaya's hand, which keeps you in place with a combination of inordinate strength and head scritchies. She snickers at you.

 

“There's no recowerin' from that, is there?” you sulk mildly as Kanaya runs her fingers through your hair once more.

 

“I Should Say Not. But Perhaps There Is Understanding To Be Gained Here?”

 

“Like wwhat?” you ask. Kanaya only gives you a look.

 

“Alright, maybe I do hawe a little redcrush on her,” you cross your arms, “But is it real red feelins'?”

 

“What Do You Mean?”

 

“Come on, Kan. I barely knoww her; wwe'we seen each other, like, twwice. An' I may just be feelin' this wway for her cause she's wwillin' to giwe me the time a' night.” you sigh quietly, “I kinda hope it's real feelins', but knowwin' me, it may just be stupid infatuation.” Kanaya is silent for a long time.

 

“How Dare You, Eridan.”

 

“Wwha?” you open your eyes wide as Kanaya looks at you with barely-contained irritation.

 

“How Dare You Become So Mature Without Me?” she crosses her arms, “If I Had Known You Would Mature All On Your Own, I Would Have Taken More Time For My Own Issues.” she smiles at you as you return to normal eye-size.

 

“Heh. Wwell, I wwouldn't say I'm all the wway mature,” you grin at her, “I think I could use a little more help, if you catch my drift.”

 

“Then Perhaps This Could Become A Regular Thing, Hm?”

 

“Sounds fantastic to me,” you close your eyes as Kanaya gives you more head scritchies.

 

“Hey Kan?” you open an eye.

 

“Yes Eridan?”

 

“Did wwe just become moirails?”

 

“I Believe We Did.”

 

“Good, just checkin'” you close your eyes again, smiling in content.

 

“So, What Are You Going To Do About Nepeta?”

 

“Hm? Oh, I don't knoww. I didn't think I wwas goin' to do anyfin about Nep,” you wave your hand slightly.

 

“Oh Come Now. At The Very Least, You Have To Discern The Nature Of These Feelings.”

 

“I guess so...” you trail off.

 

“I Think You Should Ask Her On A Flushdate.”

 

“Are you mad, wwoman?” you incredulate, “I can't just ask her out of the blue like that!”

 

“That Is Very True, Except That It Is Most Certainly Not. In Fact, Taking Her On A Date May Just Be An Absolutely Brilliant Idea.”

 

“Howw do you figure?”

 

“In The Worst Case Scenario, She Merely Wishes To Be A Friend, And You Have A Good Time. In The Best Case Scenario, You End Up With Another Quadrant Filled,” Kanaya waggles her eyebrows, confident in her suggestion's aptness, “You Risk Very Little By Asking Her Out.”

 

“An' if she shoots me dowwn like a fuckin' skywwhale?” you ask, a hint of bitterness seeping into your voice.

 

“Than She Is Still A Friend, And That Is That,” she shrugs.

 

“Wwell, I guess... S'not like I'we got much to lose,” you close your eyes and let loose a little sigh. The two of you stay like that for the better part of the next half-hour.

 

“Hey, wwait a minute,” you open your eyes again and raise your head a little, “Wwhy don't you practice wwhat you're preachin'?”

 

“What Do You Mean?”

 

“Wwhy don't you ask Wris on a date,” you push yourself up and off of Kanaya's lap; she makes no effort to keep you there. “I mean, you'we got the hots for her, right? So wwhy am I the only one chasin' my redcrush here?”

 

“That Is...” she hesitates, “A Very Good Point. Very Well, I Will Ask After Vriska, If You'll Do The Same For Nepeta.”

 

“Done, and done,” you smile widely, showing off your sharp teeth.

 

“My Word, Those Things Could Cut Through Iron.”

 

“Nah, I tried that once,” you shrug at the memory, “Good thin' these thins' are like an aquatic tooth-beast's teeth in more wways than one.”

 

“They Grow Back?” Kanaya seems genuinely interested.

 

“Yep. I keep a drawwer full of my old ones in my respiteblock somewwhere.”

 

“That Is Far More Information Than I Needed To Know,” Kanaya pinches the bridge of her nose.

 

“Yeah, wwell,” you retrieve your sunglasses from your captchalogue and don them, “Deal wwith it.”

 

“God Damn It Eridan.” Though Kanaya's voice carries tone of purest exasperation, her snicker and snorts of amusement betray her.

 

Grinning inanely, you fall back into the pillow pile, and Kanaya falls next to you. Almost as soon as your head hits the pile, a yawn escapes your lips.

 

“Hey Kan, I think it's gettin' late. Maybe wwe should-” You look over to see Kanaya sleeping, her chest rising and falling slowly.

 

“Heh. 'Day, Kan. See you in the evenin'.” With that, you fall into a deep, softness-induced slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am deeply sorry about the lateness of this chapter. A combination of schoolwork, my girlfriend, and an admirable attempt to clear my video game backlog delayed this chapter. Also, it's probably longer than any other chapter in this fiction up to this point.


	16. XVI. In which Nepeta converses with Equius regarding her newfound affection for Eridan.

You take another forkful of cholerbear steak into your mouth, gazing at your guest across your small table. Equius eats slowly, taking great care not to crush your cutlery and place settings as he consumes the salad you had prepared for him. You try your damndest to telepathically transmit your thoughts and feelings, your questions, to him. Sadly, either you were not born with telepathy, or he cannot receive such messages-

 

“Are you going to tell me what I am in the right about?” Equius asks suddenly, lifting his head from his plate.

 

-Or apparently, he can. You swallow your meat loudly, nervously.

 

“Whatefur do you mean, Equius?” you ask innocently.

 

“Come now Nepeta. Whenever it turns out that I am right about something after we've argued STRONGLY about it, you prepare for me a meal in your hive,” he puts a muscular finger to his chiseled chin, “In fact, I could swear that we've had this conversation before...”

 

“Well, maybe I just wanted to thank you for being such a great moirail!” you attempt to evade.

 

“Usually, that is accomplished through liberal use of tackle-hugs,” he crosses his arms, “Why this recalcitrance, Nepeta?”

 

“I...” you hesitate, withdrawing into yourself slightly, “I'm afraid that you'll be mad.”

 

“Oh, Nepeta,” he rises from his cross-legged position, and shuffles over to you, setting himself down tenderly and putting an arm around your shoulder, “Even if I do become angry, I cannot possibly stay mad at you forever,” he smiles, “Tell me what's happened.”

 

“Well...” you pause, “Okay. But purromise not to get mad!”

 

“I shall endeavor to keep my anger in check,” Equius puts his hand over his pump biscuit in solemn vow.

 

“Well, alright. You were right about...” you trail off mumbling.

 

“Excuse me, what was that?” Equius leans in.

 

You start again, “You were right about...” more mumbling.

 

“One more time, please,” Equius leans in further.

 

“You were right about Eridan!” you shout, right in his hear ducts. He recoils at the noise, holding his hands to the sides of his head in pain.

 

“I am sorry, but could you repeat that one last time? More quietly, please?” he asks, mildly subdued.

 

“You were right,” you sigh, “About Eridan.”

 

“That he is a philanderer and a fool?” Equius crosses his arms, as smug as he can possibly be, which isn't nearly as smug as most trolls, “Well, I'm glad that you have ceased your defense of his proclivities and-”

 

“No! I mean, you were right,” you grow a little quieter, “about how I feel for him.”

 

Equius pauses, and moistens visibly. “You are aware that I was merely jesting, yes?” he smiles nervously.

 

“Well, I'm not joking now,” you say, steel rising in your voice. There is silence, not nervous silence, but defiant silence, you have nothing more to say about the matter until he responds.

 

“You're... truly flushed?” a fat drop of sweat trails down his forehead.

 

“Yes. For Ampurra.” The pet name seems to repulse him, but he continues to fail to move from his seated position.

 

“I see,” rivers of sweat run down his forehead, and his face is frozen stiff, as if in rigor mortis. His hand also fails to remove itself from around your shoulders.

 

“Equius?” you tentatively brush the hand off of your shoulder, but you really start to worry when he still fails to respond. “Equius, say something!” you shake him a little, growing somewhat desperate for a response. He is still frozen. You shake him harder. He still yet fails to unfreeze. You begin to throttle him, his body waving like a shaken palm tree.

 

When you eventually release him, he falls over, much like the aforementioned palm tree, now felled. He seems to come to from whatever stupor possessed him, as he rises, clutching his head in apparent pain.

 

“Ah, Nepeta,” he moves his hand off from his head, only to realize that he's still coated in sweat. Retrieving a towel from his captchalogue and drying himself off with it, he continues, “I do apologize for falling asleep in your presence so rudely. Most uncouth of me,” he recaptchalogues the towel, “I had a rather strange daymare. I dreampt that you had flushed feelings for the seadweller, of all trolls.” He chuckles his strange, sinister chuckle, “That can't possibly be, can it?”

 

You look at him, confused and worried at first. But then you adopt a tough, hard-set expression. It does it's job; clears all doubts.

 

“Oh for the love of- May I ask why you would fall in with someone like him? May I have that, at least?” Equius stands, assuming his full height, and you follow suite.

 

“Pity is a weird thing, Equius,” you lift a finger, as though about to give a lecture, your other hand against your side, adjoining arm akimbo. “I mean, you're pale for me, even though I'm a bunch of levels lower then you on the hemospectrum,”

 

“Yes, but-” Equius attempts to interject, but the Nepeta Lecture Train simply cannot be stopped.

 

“And you're flushed for Aradia, and she's at the bottom of the silly thing!” you lift your arms expressively. They express argumentativeness and righteous authority.

 

“True, however-”

 

“We don't choose which trolls we pity, and with that in mind, I can't tell you why, only that I am super-duper flushed for Ampurra! And you're just going to have to live with that.” You finish your rant, short as it was, to find Equius crossing his muscular arms, annoyance arraying itself on his features.

 

“Are you quite finished?” he asks. You nod in the affirmative. Uncrossing his arms, he says, “I understand what you're saying, Nepeta, but I simply find it most incredulous that you would pity that sad excuse for a troll. You know he is not the most savory individual.”

 

“You keep telling me that, but I don't understand!” you exasperate, “To me, he just seems like he needs a great big hug!” Equius is notably taken aback.

 

“I... I'm afraid I do not understand you,” Equius appears genuinely perplexed.

 

“He's been through so much, and efurryone still treats him like a dickhead!”

 

“Nepeta, language-”

 

“But he's not! He has a story, a... a life, outside of any of the stupid crap people think he's done!” you breathe deeply for a moment, your second tirade of the night finished for the nonce.

 

“Nepeta, _language_ ,” Equius repeats, “ And have you forgotten his STRONG desire to slay all landdwellers? That never stopped being a thing that is true.”

 

“Well I don't think he really does though! Maybe he was like that in the past, but now?” you shake your head, “Besides, I don't know that he wants to kill all landdwellers. I only have your word for that.”

 

“Do you think I would lie to you, Nepeta?” There is a mixture of steel and hurt in his voice, and for a moment, you realize that despite your moirail's proclivities and his incessant assertions of STRENGTH, he can be just as fragile and insecure as any other troll, especially a troll of his blood-caste.

 

“Aw, I'm sorry Equius,” you give him a hug, “I didn't mean to imply that you were lying to me.” You look up at him, noticing beads of sweat forming on his forehead, “You're a good moirail, my best friend. But even the best moirails can be mistaken, that's all.” Equius becomes less taut, and eventually returns your embrace, placing his arms around you. His hug is light; he almost doesn't touch you. But you can feel the warmth emanating from your muscular moirail nonetheless.

 

After the two of you have broken your embrace, you return to the table, seated across from each other, the food having gone cold. After a few moments, Equius speaks up.

 

“I feel I must apologize, Nepeta,” he says, somewhat stiffly. Although that's par for Equius, it seems as though he is trying to keep his voice even.

 

“Hm? Why so, Equius?” you inquire, touching a decanter of milk that happens to be in the center of the table to check for temperature. _Still cold!_ your internal monologue remarks happily. You pour yourself a glass as Equius responds.

 

“I should not have attempted to sway your opinion of the seadwe- Eridan. Whom you pity is entirely your business, and my duties as a moirail should not reach as far as I made them out to.”

 

You pour him a glass of milk, “Oh, don't be silly! You were only looking out fur me! That's what any good moirail should do.”

 

“Nevertheless, I feel I should apologize. My assumptions of his character are derived from my knowledge of his behavior many sweeps ago,” he smiles slightly, “Perhaps you are correct. Perhaps he has changed for the better”

 

He takes a sip of his milk, shakily. He still has yet to achieve full control over his prodigious strength, but if he can touch you without bruising, and take up a glass without having it shatter in his grip, there's hope for him yet.

 

The two of you talk and laugh well into the night. Eventually, however, dawn begins to approach, and Equius must depart. He climbs aboard his scuttlebuggy and hovers off into the morning light. You watch him go, a smile on your face.

 

 _That could have gone a whole lot worse,_ you muse before scampering back into your cave to give Pounce de Leon his late day meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I will not apologize for the lateness of this chapter, for my regret should be easily inferred from its lateness.


	17. XVII. In which Eridan realizes his feelings for Nepeta.

You're walking through a cave, mossy and dank, the mists rising from the oceans outside having bombarded it for eons. The night was clear when you entered the cavern, that much you know, despite your non-remembrance of ever entering the cave. You make your way carefully, stepping over errant rocks, patches of sickly green moss, and the occasional troll bone.

 

“Wwell, this is fuckin' cozy...” you mutter, cautiously glancing about the place. You brandish Ahab's Crosshairs, though you do not remember ever drawing the weapon. You continue your cautious pace through the cavern, never even taking notice of the slithering of reptilian tail, or the light grumble that sounds like it should come from a creature's throat, or the bright, glowing, red eyes that gaze upon you with ill-concealed hunger-

 

And suddenly a massive roar echoes throughout the cave, as the equally massive dragon reveals itself to you. Its scales are steel-hard snow, its teeth ice-white razors, its eyes bloody frost. Its bellow knocks you off your feet, and you only have a split second to raise your weapon before the beast descends upon you.

 

And suddenly, it stops dead in its tracks. You raise a confuzzled eyebrow, as it makes a high-pitched screeching noise, akin to an angel's wail. A spurt of bright red blood erupts from the back of the dragon's neck, as it collapses with all the grace of a dying snake. Probably because its neck looks a bit like one.

 

You have just enough time to rise to your feet before you are tackle-hugged by a blur of olive green.

 

“Eridan! I'm so glad you're okay!” the olive coat says emphatically as it knocks you back on the ground.

 

“W-wwha? W-wwho? W-wwhere?” you stammer incoherently. The coat lifts itself a bit, and reveals a face.

 

“I saw you go into this cafurrn, and I got so, _so_ worried about you!” Nepeta says, blushing, “Because I really really-” you couldn't hear her next words; they were muffled, as though spoken under the sea.

 

“Erm, could you repeat that to me, Nep?” you ask tentatively.

 

“Eridan,” she takes a deep breath, “I p-” again, muffled. But this time, she makes her meaning more than clear.

 

She kisses you, full on the lips.

 

And it is nothing short of bliss.

 

You enjoy the kiss thoroughly, your tongues twisting around each other, light moans escaping both sets of lips. You feel something joyous rising from your collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system, something uplifting, beautiful beyond beauty, glorious beyond glory. Something you don't recall ever truly feeling ever in your entire existence. It is absolutely wonderful, and you never want it to stop.

 

That is, until you pull back a moment to see that Nepeta seems to have grown face tentacles, complete with spikes and sea grime encrusted in their pores.

 

You awaken just as the tentacles descend upon you. Your eyes snap open, and you take several sharp breaths as the adrenaline drains from your system.

 

“Ugh, fuckin' hell, Gl'bgolyb,” you curse as you fumble at the shelf inside your recuperacoon for your glasses. Putting them on, you look about you, only to find, instead of a mossy cavern, your familiar recuperacoon.

 

“It wwas just gettin' good, too,” you mutter, rising from your recuperacoon. You lift yourself out, and after donning a bright pink bathrobe, you walk over to your window. You gaze out over the Alternian sea, and notice the moon hanging high in the dark of the sky, signifying that you've managed to sleep until midnight.

 

You massage your temples slowly, attempting rub the daymare out of your mind. You've been having dreams such as these for ten days now. They always start out about the same: You're going through some place you've never seen before, and can never remember going to, you see Nepeta, the two of you kiss (or more), and then the Emissary injects a nice, loathsome dose of absolute terror. But then again, that's Gl'bgolyb for you.

 

You've been giving these dreams serious thought only after the third one, in which you and Nepeta had been kissing in a moist, noiseless jungle, before being attacked by a pouncebeast with a tentaclefish's face and teeth for paws. You learned early on to ignore the little bits of squelchy, bloodcurdling terror that your dreams carry with them. After all, it's something every troll deals with, and is unlikely to be of any import. However, it is content preceding the Emissary's intrusion that seems significant to your mind.

 

_You don't dream about a troll unless you'we got feelins' for 'em or somefin, right_ ? you question silently.  _At least, not this fuckin' much_ .

 

You think back on your dreams, on your scant conversations with Nepeta, your feelings jam with Kanaya, more or less everything you've been through in the weeks prior to this. Your thoughts linger on Nepeta. You remember her innocent, yet confident smile, her curvy, yet lithe frame, the spring in her step as she lopes about, much like the pawbeasts she emulates.

 

You find yourself spacing out for several minutes afterward. You come out of your stupor long enough to remember something pertinent from your feelings jam.

 

_Wwhy don't you practice wwhat you're preachin'?_

 

“Fuck it,” you mutter into the air, “Wwhy not?” You sit at your desk, open your husktop, and open Trollian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't quite comprehend the reasons for this story's continued popularity. I strongly suspect that time-traveling paradox clones of myself are coming back to this time from their own to leave kudos. In the very likely event that I am incorrect, I thank you all for your continued support, and I once again apologize for the late chapter.


	18. XVIII. In which Nepeta receives a peculiar message from Eridan, asking for her company.

“Meow?”

 

“Mew!”

 

“Meow mew meow!”

 

“Meewwrrr...”

 

“...Mew.”

 

“Meow hiss!”

 

“Mew meow purr!” You're lying on your stomach, in front of Pounce de Leon. You've been engaged in this argument for several hours now, and what disturbs you most is that your lusus seems to be winning.

 

_Bloop!_

 

Fortunately for your pride, your husktop informs you, in its traditional manner, that you have a message. You half-step, half-rise up and over to your desk to see who may have messaged you. You don't recognize the trollhandle, but upon seating yourself at your desk and inspecting your chumproll, you see that it corresponds with one near the alphabetical top of said chumproll.

 

 _Hm, I guess I know this purrson! Maybe_ , you muse with growing interest.

 

caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

 

CA: hey nep

CA: its er

CA: howws it goin

AC: :33< er?

AC: :33< who's this?

CA: oh sorry

CA: its eridan

CA: cod that felt wweird

CA: typin my full name like that

 

Eridan? How does he even have your trollhandle? _Probably the same way you have his_ , you ruminate as you type a response.

 

AC: :33< oh! hi ampurra! :33

CA: hi again i guess

CA: so

CA: wwhats up

AC: :33< not too much

AC: :33< just had a furrocious debate with

AC: :33< a furriend

AC: :33< yes, a furriend

AC: :33< what about you though? how have you been since the last time we talked?

CA: eh same ol same ol

CA: whale i did manage to fill my pale quadrant

CA: so thats good

AC: :33< congratulations!

AC: :33< whos the lucky troll?

CA: if you must knoww

CA: its kan

CA: she is the moirail

AC: :33< ooh, nice catch! X33

CA: thank you thank you

CA: but noww to business

AC: :33< **ac dons very dignified, businessish clothing with which to convey the seriousness of the business that she and ampurra are to conduct** :33

 

 _Ooh, I didn't know Trollian bolded RP stuff! Must've been the new update_. You reflect for a few moments on the alacrity with which technological advancements arrive on Alternia before Eridan replies to you.

 

CA: er yes

CA: lets sea

CA: **ca adjusts his flippin sweet cape wwhich totally accentuates his figure in some bullshit wway before askin ac if shed like to go to a movvie sometime in the comin wweek**

AC: :33< *ac counters with

 

Wait. Did Eridan just ask you out?

 

Your think pan is suddenly awash in conflicting thoughts, feelings, and impulses. Most of you wants to say yes immediately, but parts of you wonder if it would be wise to accept his offer. After all, you don't know him _that_ well. You know his reprehensible reputation is utter hoofbeast shit, but there might be other things about him you don't know about. Scary things. Weird things.

 

As you become paralyzed by indecision, your think pan wars with itself. You clutch at your head in frustration as a dozen or more mental voices all vie for your attention, until they are all at once silenced with a single sound.

 

_Bloop!_

 

CA: hey you there nep

CA: i think you got cut off

CA: trollian puts rp shit in bold and yours aint right now

CA: you okay

 

You smile at your screen. _It's only a date. What's the worst that could happen?_

 

AC: :33< **ac accepts ampurras generous offer an extends a hand for him to shake** :33

CA: oh good your back

CA: i mean

CA: **ca takes acs hand wwith a smile and shakes it firmly**

AC: :33< **ac admires ampurras sharrrp teeth!** X33

CA: in all seariousness nep

CA: is this thursday good for you

CA: ill pick you up from your cave

CA: or do you still call it a hivve

AC: :33< that sounds wonderfur!

CA: haha wwonderfur

CA: that wwas pretty good

AC: :33< why thank you! :33

CA: anywway ill see you then

AC: :33< farewell fur now!

 

caligulasAquarium [CA] has ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

 

You come away from the conversation smiling widely. With newfound energy, you decide that you should give your cave (hive?) a bit of cleaning before figuring out what to wear on Thursday.

 

So, with the grace of one who has attained what they had dreamed of without ever realizing they had dreamed of it, you acquire a broom from your supply closet, pirouette back to your desk, set your husktop to play your favorite Caliginous Condescension album, and get to sweeping.

 

Pounce de Leon rolls her eyes and smiles knowingly at you while you work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: In which musicalArchon discovers that the word "business" is spelt "busi-ness" as in "busy-ness", and also that OpenOffice will put in bold anything between two asterisks.
> 
> In addition, I will grant bonus points of a dubious nature to anyone who can determine the band reference near the end.


	19. XIX. In which Eridan takes Nepeta on a flushdate. The date ends splendidly for all parties involved.

You tremble uncertainly in front of your mirror. The scene around you is nigh-parallel to the crisis you went through before your paledate with Kanaya. Of course, at least then you knew you wanted to wear a cape. In this case, you're not even sure you want to wear your scarf, or your rings, or anything.

 

You had slowly floated through several emotions during the past week. You started in the Sea of Disbelief. Your think pan hadn't even quite processed Nepeta's acquiescence. Then you waded through the Pools of Glee; you were happier than you had been in a very long time, and took time to make sure everyone knew it. Your moirail was happy for you, Karkat never got back to you, and Gamzee wrote you some unintelligible accolade in his usual style. Of course, all good feels must come to an end, and you found yourself rather suddenly in the Rapids of Panic, as you realized you actually had to prepare for the date you had ostensibly planned.

 

So now you stand, crashing through your own personal crests and falls, trying in vain to decide what to wear to your date that is supposed to commence in an hour or so.

 

Fortune appears to pity you, however, as your mobile device alerts you to a message with it's customary _bloop._ Checking it, you are perplexed, and to some degree, relieved to discover that it is Kanaya.

 

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

GA: Wear The Long Cape

GA: The One That Nearly Touches The Floor

GA: That Is The One You Should Be Wearing

CA: wwhat the fuck kan

CA: are you lookin through my wwindoww or somefin

GA: Of Course Not

GA: But I Know You Very Well Mister Ampora

GA: And So I Know That You Are Most Likely Stressing Most Unnecessarily Over What You Should Be Wearing For This Date Youve Planned

GA: So As Your Moirail And An Expert On Fashion I Am Telling You That You Should Wear Your Literally Longest Cape

CA: wwell i had been considerin that one

CA: any particular reason for it

GA: Many

GA: First Of All It Makes You Look Taller

GA: And The Additional Fabric Will Allow For Cape Cuddles At Appropriate Moments

GA: And It Will Billow In The Wind Which Will Make You Look Quite Dashing

GA: On Another Note I Would Advise You To Leave Your Rings At Your Hive

CA: wwhys that

GA: They Would Get In The Way Of Holding Hands

CA: oh of course

GA: Also While It May Be A Bit Chilly In The Theatre I Believe You Should Not Wear Your Scarf

CA: wwhat

CA: but thats my favvorite garment

CA: you cant expect me to leavve that here kan

CA: its like im not evven me without it

GA: I Am Well Aware Of That

GA: Believe Me I Am

GA: However I Would Like To Point Out That Your Scarf Tends To Obfuscate Your Chest Which Not Only Is One Of Your Best Physical Characteristics But It Is Also Where Nepetas Head Will Rest Should She Decide To Curl Up With You

CA: alright

CA: i accept that line a logic

CA: but wwhat makes you think shell wwant to curl up or cuddle or anythin

GA: In Truth I Do Not Know Whether Or Not She Will Want To Even Touch You

GA: I Do Know Meow-beasts Though

GA: And I Know That They Are Very Affectionate Creatures When Pleased

GA: In Any Event I Will Leave You To It

GA: Good Luck Eridan

CA: thanks for the advvice kan

 

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

Leave it to Kanaya to calm your rumble spheres. In any event, you now know what you're wearing for this thing. As your panic abates, you don your literally longest cape, unwrap your neck, and set each of your rings in their individual boxes. Having groomed yourself to perfection before your clothing consternation, there is nothing left to do but to get over to Nepeta's hive (cave?) and pick her up.

 

You pull up to the mouth of her cave (hive?) shortly thereafter. Checking your mobile, you are pleased to discover that you have arrived exactly when you meant to. _Heh, just like Gantaf the Skin-Coloured from_ In Which a Small, Determined Group of Adventurers Embark on a Journey for the Sake of Their High Fantasy World; One Member of the Group Betrays the Others, then Redeems Themselves by Slaughtering a Goodly Number of Impedimentary Adversaries; There Are at Least Two Encounters With Mythical Beasts, Several Battle Scenes Involving the Main Protagonists and Miscellaneous Mooks, and Several Bonding Moments Between Two of the Lowblood Leads, Causing Some to Question Whether Their Relationship is Flushed or Pale _..._

 

You would have gone on, had Nepeta not chosen that moment to appear before you. It was obvious that she had not taken nearly as long to deliberate over her clothing choices as you had. A part of you wants to feel indignant that you put in so much effort, and she, so little. And yet, it feels right somehow, that she can look so vivacious, so curvacious, and other words that rhyme with -acious, all without much effort on her part. She looks almost exactly the same as she did when last you met, albeit less sweaty and fatigued, and she looks absolutely fantastic.

 

You suddenly feel like an overdressed ponce. Cracking a nervous smile, you wave at her and hope she doesn't agree.

 

“Hi Erifin!” she all but leaps at you, wrapping her arms around your neck in an affectionate, but breath tube-crushing embrace.

 

“Ack! Hel – urk – lo!” you choke out, returning her hug unconsciously, “Kinda, erk, choking-”

 

“Oh!” she lets go, offering an embarrassed grin, “I guess I'm just really excited. This is my first efur flushdate!” She's so incredibly energetic; her enthusiasm proves infectious.

 

“Wwell, then I'we got an obligation to make it the best date ewer!” you raise your head and smile haughtily, “A gentleman of my stature can't ewer disappoint a lady, after all.”

 

She giggles, “I'm certain you won't disappoint me,” she ambles around to the passenger side of the scuttlebuggy, gets inside, and wraps both arms around your right one, “In fact, I have a furry good feeling about this date.” She nuzzles your arm affectionately, “This date will be purrfect, I think.”

 

Beads of sweat begin to form on your brow. You weren't aware of Nepeta's expectations for this date going into it, but now they so suddenly seem colossal in scale, un-meetable entirely. _She... Purrfect?!_ You grit your teeth in nervous furor, _I-I-I don't knoww that I can deliwer-_

 

“Erm, Erifin?” the voice you snap out of your anxious reverie and look to Nepeta, who is giving you a curious look. “I think you have to turn the scuttlebuggy on to make it go,” she says simply, pointing at the ignition.

 

You chuckle, your face taking on a slight violet tinge, before turning the key and starting the vehicle.

 

You arrive at the movie theatre about a half-hour after, just in time for the movie you had intended to see. It is a romantic comedy, highly praised by many critics across Alternia and beyond, with direction from one of the industry's finest, and star acting the likes of which only graces a film once in a lifetime.

 

In fact, that may be the title of the flick.

 

Regardless, you had taken quite a bit of pride in your choice. You had remembered getting a glance at something that looked like what could only be described as a “wall for romantic pairings,” whilst over at her hive, and given Nepeta's penchant for exuberance and cheer, you had believed this to be the perfect choice. _You're not the only one wwho can pick 'em, Kar,_ you remember thinking smugly when you had come up with the idea.

 

There is only one problem.

 

“Wwhat the fuck do you mean, 'It's sold out'!?” you shout with wrath and fury, slamming your hands on the ticket booth's counter, only to curse yourself for being so careless. You consider yourself fortunate that Nepeta had wandered off to look at a nearby fountain, and had, presumably, not heard your outburst.

 

“Jusht that, shir,” the ticket taker responds, looking at his fingernails in boredom, “The romantic comedy you wanted to shee ish shold out. Now, unlessh you have another movie in mind, I shuggesht, with all due reshpect, that you leave.”

 

You turn away from the ticket booth, wracking your think pan for a solution. _Goddamnit, goddamnit, goddamnit! Ewerythins' alreay goin wwrong, an' there isn't another theatre for twwenty fuckin' miles!_ You come up empty. You are about to admit defeat, and hope that Nepeta will settle for a romantic drama instead, when you hear from right beside you, “Ooh! Let's see the shadowdropper one!”

 

You jump slightly, startled to see that Nepeta had somehow snuck up next to you. “W-wwhat?” you stammer, having not quite caught what she had said.

 

“The shadowdropper movie! It's to the left of the romantic comedy!” she points to the title, her hand sticking just a little bit out of her adorable oversized sleeves. You look up at the title, adjusting your glasses slightly.

 

Instantly, a flurry of figures, articles, and half-recalled rumors cascade through your mind. _Wworst mowie of the year. One out of fiwe. The second lowwest score ewer on Putrid Red-Wegetables. A disgrace to the mowie industry._

 

Your ocular orbs widen in horror at the very thought of viewing such an abomination. You actually take a literal step back to take in what you just heard. Under any other circumstances, you would have done anything to avoid seeing this movie. And yet, Nepeta wants to see it.

 

You look over at her face. She's smiling imploringly at you, her eyes wide with want. She looks as though she desires nothing more on the entire planet than to see this hideous excuse for a theatrical production... with you.

 

_Wwell... Wwhen in Troll Rome..._ You wring every last drop of confidence possible from your wiry frame, stride to the ticket booth, slam your money down, and with as much regality as you can muster, demand, “Twwo tickets to see the shadowdropper mowie!”

 

The ticket taker doesn't give you so much as a raised eyebrow as he hands you the tickets before intoning an unenthusiastic, “Thank you. Enjoy the show.”

 

After stopping at the concessions stand to pick up a healthy helping of snackfoods, the two of you find your movieblock. There is not a filled seat in the block.  _Oh cod, wwhy did I do this to myself? This is goin to suck so fuckin' much!_ You despair somewhat before glimpsing Nepeta's form in the darkness of the movieblock as she bounds up the stairs to your seats. You can't help but smile at her.  _Just lie back and think of Nep, I guess_ . You grin to yourself as you sit down, snacks in lap, and await your final doom.

 

The movie meets all of your expectations.

 

“Holy meow-beasts! That was just as terrible as I thought it would be,” Nepeta stretches her arms as the two of you leave the theatre.

 

“Yeah, I sorta – wwait!” you pick up your pace to get in front of her, “You _kneww_ it wwould be terrible?”

 

“Well, duh!” she rolls her eyes, “Efurrything about it was wrong!” She begins listing on her fingers emphatically, “Wrong actors, wrong director, wrong setting, wrong special effects, wrong castings, literally wrong everything!” She throws her hands in the air as you blink twice.

 

“Then wwhy the ewerglubbin' fuck did wwe see that sickenin' crime against good cinema!?” you shout in thickest, purest annoyance. Nepeta only laughs a little in response.

 

“Beclawse it was funny, silly!” she smiles as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“Wwhat? Wwhat could possibly hawe been funny about that?” you thrust your arm back in the direction of the theatre in condemnation.

 

“Oh, come on! That scene where the female lead was screaming for five minutes straight?” she laughs again, louder this time, “That was priceless!”

 

“Wwhale... I suppose that was sorta funny,” you concede, giving a slight chuckle at the memory.

 

“And the 'plot twist'?” she begins to crack up, “'The first shadowdropper was actually... a rainbow drinker the whole time!'” She guffaws loudly, drawing the attention of several other trolls around you. The stares don't prevent you from laughing out loud yourself, nor does it keep you from sharing your own favorite scene.

 

“Remember the 'I am your ancestor... From the past!' bit?” you clutch your sides as you double over in hysterics, “Cod, that was so oweracted!”

 

The two of you can't help but laugh at every remembered scene, every hilarious moment, until you are both short of breath.

 

“Oh cod...” you wipe a tear from your eye, before looking around, “I think wwe're startin' to get some strange looks, Nep.” You smile down at Nepeta, who had needed a moment to literally roll on the floor with laughter.

 

“Yeah...” she catches her breath, “You're purrobably right. Shall we head back?” She jumps back to her feet.

 

“Not quite yet,” you get up from your position on the floor, dusting off your cape and pants, “Wwhat kind a' date wwould this be if there wwasn't dinner after the mowie?” You flash what you hope is a dashing grin.

 

“Ooh, food!” she jogs over to the scuttlebuggy and attempts to open the passenger-side door, without success. You snicker a bit and unlock both doors with the button on your key-ring. The passenger-side door swings open, Nepeta's hands on the latch. Yelping in surprise, she lets go of the door, falling backwards, and falling flat on her (rather shapely) rear.

 

“That didn't happen!” she quickly asserts as you draw closer.

 

“Of course not,” you respond with a grin. She sticks her tongue out at you as she rises and gets into the scuttlebuggy.

 

The place you had picked out for dinner was only a few miles from the theatre. You had selected it not only for its close proximity, but also for the great quality of the food. It routinely receives five stars in just about every publication dedicated to using stars to rate restaurants. They are most famous for their cholerbear steak, sauteed in the blood of another cholerbear. The head chef is a personal friend of yours, at least as far as you can call anyone a friend. You had believed it to be the perfect spot to take Nepeta.

 

There is but one issue.

 

“Wwhat do you mean, ' _It's closed_!?'” This time, Nepeta is right next to you, but you know not whether she is concerned. All of your attention, and anger, is directed squarely toward the impertinent lackey standing in front of the door.

 

“I mean exactly what I said, sir,” he says in an officious manner, “This restaurant is closed down until further notice.”

 

“May I ask wwhy?” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

 

“The proprietor of this establishment was just recently culled, and failed to leave any sort of last will and testament,” the lackey shakes his head, “A most unwise choice on his part. We do not know whom the restaurant is to be bequeathed to. And furthermore–”

 

“Yes, yes, I get it,” you snap, then heave yet another sigh, “Look, do you happen to knoww anywwhere else wwe might get a good glubbin' cholerbear steak?”

 

“No, I do not. Now, with all due respect–“

 

“Wacate the fuckin' premises, I knoww,” you turn on your heel and stalk back to your scuttlebuggy. You lean against it, resting your arms on the door, and your head on your arms. You give a light sigh, idly wondering if it's not to late to make reservations at that Troll Italian place near your hive.

 

“Hey Erifin, what about that place ofur there?” Nepeta tugs on your sleeve with one hand and points with the other. You look over to where she is pointing, And see no restaurant, eatery, or purveyor of fine cuisine.

 

However, you do see what appears to be a two-bit burger joint. It's a smallish, ramshackle structure, with a large neon sign on the facade that reads, “Grub Burgers, Grubwiches, and Salads!”. You almost vomit a little at the sight of the place.

 

“W-wwhat the fuck?” you utter in alarm, “Wwhy wwould you ewer wwant to–“ Before you finish your sentence, however, she bounds off in the direction of the place, leaving you little choice but to follow. The interior of the joint is much like the exterior: small, somewhat dingy, a little dirty. Nepeta stands at the counter, looking up at a large menu listing each item in a messy scawl.

 

“Nep, do you really wwant to eat here?” you ask with masked desperation upon reaching her.

 

“Hm?” she turns toward you, as if noticing you for the first time, “Of course! It smells delicious! Don't you think so?”

 

“Nep, it's not–” you then pick up something. It is a subtle, distinct aroma. It smells a little like the burning flesh of a lusus after you've shot it through with your rifle. Except that this smells more... aromatic, more pleasing to the senses. You find the sensation difficult to describe. It occurs to you that you've never actually smelled food being cooked, always eating at high-class restaurants, and in booths away from their kitchens, to boot.

 

_This is food bein' cooked? Coddamn..._ Whatever this is, you decide quickly that you are a big fan.

 

The two of you order your food. You take the bag proffered by the gruff cashier, and as there are no tables, the two of you elect to take your meal outside, settling on the curb in front of the joint. You hand Nepeta her sandwich and unwrap your own. It's greasy, messy, and slimy with condiments. You steel yourself and take a bite anyway. As your teeth dig into the bun, you hear Nepeta in the throes of enjoyment next to you.

 

“Mmm, juishy!” she is smiling in content, eyes closed as she chews. You must admit, your burger is quite good, if a bit gristly. You chew a bit listlessly, considering the way the night has gone.

 

_Wwell, I can't say it's gone all accordin' to plan. If anyfin, today should feel like a glubbin' disaster. An' yet..._ You look over at Nepeta, who is currently licking the grubsauce off her hands and fingers.  _She seems to be hawin' a good time. That's good, I suppose._

 

Nepeta, at this point, notices you looking at her. Evidently, your train of thought is evident on your face, as she adopts an expression of concern as she asks, “What's wrong, Eridan? Your burger come out bad?”

 

You shake your head to clear it, “Uh, no. No, it wwas fine, thank you.” You look away somewhat awkwardly.

 

“Well then, what's wrong?” she scoots closer to you, “You can tell me, Erifin.”

 

“Wwhale, it's just...” you falter slightly, “I had this grand swweepin' plan for tonight, right? Wwe wwere gonna see a critically acclaimed piece a' cinematography, then wwe wwere gonna hawe a fantastic meal at a fiwe-star place. An' then I wwas gonna hawe us stop just before the jungle's edge, and wwe wwere gonna hawe a romantic wwalk back to your hiwe, an' it wwas gonna be super cute and shit. But then the mowie wwas sold out, and the restaurant's closed. It's like the wwhole a' the uniwerse itself doesn't wwant me to hawe any romance or somefin.” You look back to Nepeta, who had been listening intently. At least, you hope so.

 

“Oh, is that all?” she giggles, “Don't be silly, Erifin. I've been having a great time! If this is a flushdate gone wrong, I can't wait to see one that goes purrfectly according to plan!” You can't help but cock an eyebrow. It's great that she's having fun; after all, that's all you really wanted out of this – maybe just little more – but you can't help but feel that something's still missing.

 

“Besides,” Nepeta arises and starts toward the scuttlebuggy, “We still haven't gone on that 'romantic wwalk.'” You can't be certain, given the harsh neon lightning from the sign above you, but you think she might be winking at you. You hastily rise from the ground, burger forgotten. You almost trip on your way back to the vehicle, and turning on the ignition proves unusually difficult for some reason.

 

Your mind for its part, is unusually blank. A mix of giddy anticipation and crippling nervousness has seized your collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system, and it forces you to stare straight ahead, and before you even know it, the jungle rises in front of you. You stop the scuttlebuggy suddenly, causing Nepeta to yelp in surprise.

 

“Oh! Sorry about that, Nep. You okay?” you ask, unbuckling your seat belt.

 

“I'm fine!” she leaps out of the vehicle, not even bothering to unbuckle or to even open the door.

 

The two of you look up at the trees and shrub. To you, it all seems impenetrable and foreboding.

 

“Well, let's go!” Nepeta obviously holds the opposite opinion. She skips ahead, disappearing into the overgrowth.

 

“Wwait up!” you rush in after her. She stops to let you catch up, and the two of you begin walking side-by-side.

 

“It's funny,” Nepeta starts after a minute or two of walking, “Usually, when I'm in the jungle, I'm hunting something. Right now though, I don't even have my claws on me.”

 

“Don't you wworry Nep!” you lift your chin in a confident manner, “I'll protect you if somefin should try to mess wwith us!”

 

“Oh?” Nepeta cocks her head quizzically, “Did you bring along that rifle-thingie? The... Crossed-Heirs?” Her smile suggests she's jesting at your expense, but you are able to take it in stride. Except for the unfortunate fact that you do not, in fact, have your strife specibus on you either.

 

“Erm, it's 'Crosshairs.' And, um–” that's about as far as you get before your face suddenly meets the floor in a less-than-jovial fashion.

 

“Oh my gosh! Eridan, are you alright?” she bends over and offers you a hand, “Let me help you up.”

 

“Agh,” you clutch your nose with one hand and take Nepeta's with the other, “Thanks Nep. Luckily, my nose isn't bleedin' or–” As you hoist yourself back to your feet, you quite suddenly take notice of the fact that you have Nepeta Leijon's hand clasped in yours. _Huh, soft. And small. Kinda dainty, actually. Those nails are wwell kept though._ These banal thoughts go through your head before you realize that you've failed to let go. You emit a nervous laugh, and continue to fail to let go.

 

“You're okay then?” she asks with a demure smile.

 

“Uh, yeah, I'm good.” You still have yet to release her hand.

 

“Good, cause we're almost back home!” She takes off, your hand in tow. The sudden movement causes you to jerk forward, but then you catch up and proceed to continue to not let go of Nepeta's hand. For her part, she appears to be returning the gesture, which gives you a measure of comfort.

 

You soon arrive at the mouth of Nepeta's hive (cave?). Nepeta turns to you. The both of you are quiet for what seems like an eon. Nepeta is the first to break the silence, “I had a wonderfur time tonight, Eridan,” she scratches the back of her head, “Could we maybe do it again sometime?”

 

“O-of course!” you stammer.

 

“Yay!” Nepeta's smile is the most glorious thing in all of Alternia and you would kill a million cholerbears riding skywhales to see it again. “Well, the sun will be up soon. I should get to sleep,” she says as she inches a little closer to you, “Thank you for tonight, Eridan Ampurra.” And then she kisses you full on the lips.

 

It is every bit as amazing as you dreampt it would be, but the best part is that Nepeta appears not to be turning into some kind of troll-horror hybrid. That means...  _This isn't a dream_ . That little fact makes you happier than you have ever been in your entire life, at least, as long as you can remember.

 

Before you can get your arms around Nepeta or properly return the kiss, it is all too soon over. She smiles at you, skips a few steps toward her hive, waves, and goes in. You remain frozen to the spot for a few moments longer before dazedly bumbling back through the jungle and to your scuttlebuggy. You somehow manage to drive the way back to your hive without totaling your vehicle.

 

When you reach your respiteblock, you take off your cape, and stare at nothing. When you glance at the mirror in your adjacent ablution chamber, you realize you've been wearing a dumb smile ever since Nepeta kissed you. Somehow, this doesn't bother you.

 

You then look to your husktop, which you accidentally left open. After jiggling the pointer device, you note that someone has trolled you in the past several minutes.

 

arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

AC: :33< hey erifin! :33

AC: :33< i was thinking

AC: :33< maybe for our next date, we go out as matespurrits?

CA: that sounds like the best fuckin plan ivve evver heard

AC: :33< X33

 

You have a sound sleep for the first time in far too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy mother of munchkins, this took far, far too long, and for that, I apologize sincerely. A veritable cascade of personal events had left my writing ability somewhat inhibited, and a chapter of this magnitude, I felt, deserved my fullest ability and literary prowess. Sadly, I am uncertain that I did it justice. As of writing, it is literally 5:18 am, and my late nights may have hurt the chapter's quality. Expect to see perhaps a few edits over the course of time itself. I thank you all in advance for your understanding.


	20. XX. In which, five weeks after the flushdate, Nepeta plans a visit to the matesprit's hive.

“Nya,” you emote quietly as you turn another page in the novel you've been reading. Curled up in your fur pile, you lazily flip through the book which your matesprit of five weeks has given you. It's based on a period of time in Troll China called, “The Matespritship of the Three Kingdoms”. You're not quite sure why they called it that. Erifin explained to you that it was because all three kingdoms were vying for the “lady” which was Troll China. Or something like that. Honestly, you think it would have been much more aptly named “The Kismesissitude of the Three Kingdoms”.

 

In any case, the novel is about a few key players in the conflict. It's very dramatic, and there are a lot of flashy fight scenes. You're not certain that it suits your tastes, but if Erifin likes it, you're willing to give it a try. Besides, you've gotten him to read a book you like as well. You think he's enjoying it. You certainly hope he is.

 

You yawn, stretching your arms as the book falls next to you with a barely audible _thump_. You take a moment to close the book, before getting up and off your pile. As much as you like relaxing, you don't want to while the night away. _Hm, I wonder what Erifin's doing..._ You amble over to your husktop, turn is on and give your matesprit a warm little hail shot.

 

arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

AC: :33< ERIFIIIIN!! X33

CA: hey nep

CA: wwhats up

AC: :33< i'm just reading that book you gave me

AC: :33< what are you up to?

CA: im at a coffee shop

CA: just readin that book you gavve me

AC: :33< and how do you like it? :33

CA: its

CA: alright

AC: :33< don't lie to me, ampurra!

AC: :33< i know you like it :33

CA: yes fine i like quite a lot

CA: evven the bits about the meoww-beast grubs

CA: especially the bits about the meoww-beast grubs

AC: :33< aha!

AC: :33< i knew you'd like it! X33

CA: wwhat about the book i lent you

AC: :33< i haven't gotten furry fur in it

CA: it gets good

CA: trust me

AC: :33< i will!

AC: :33< soooooooo

CA: wwhats up nep

AC: :33< can i come ofur to your hive?

CA: erm

CA: wwhen

AC: :33< whenefur!

AC: :33< i just wanna see what your hive is like

CA: uh sure

CA: howw about later today maybe

AC: :33< sounds grrrreat! :33

CA: cool

CA: so in feww hours then

AC: :33< i'll be there! :33

CA: awwesome

CA: ill sea you then

 

caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

 

You ascend from your chair, do a little twirl, and set an alarm on your mobile device before settling down in your fur pile for a quick catnap.

 

_Tonight's gonna be a good night_ ; your final thought before slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intriguingly, this chapter actually got out a bit faster than I originally intended for it to. A combination of two distinct fears provoked me to rush this slightly: the fear that Homestuck will conclude and the fandom will perish before I am finished, and also the possibility that my computer, having had Arizona iced tea spilt upon it, will similarly perish. Regardless, expect quicker chapter updates as I write this tale of romance and conflict and other such adventuresome things.


	21. XXI. In which Eridan goes shopping, meets Terezi, and indulges in excesseive public displays of affection.

And suddenly, you're rushing to the nearest grocery store, hoping against hope that they have something you can prepare given your meager skills.

 

_Meat, they'we gotta hawe meat, right? I can cook that, right? You grill that, right? I can totally do that!_ After parking across two spaces, you leap from your scuttlebuggy with admirable agility, and rush into the store. Fortunately, it isn't very crowded, and you are able to make it to the meat section with little trouble.

 

You agonize over the selection of cuts for a few minutes before selecting the most expensive cut of cholerbear meat, reasoning that if it's so expensive, it must be good. You then pick up a bottle of soporific drink and a couple of candles. As you rush to the checkout line with your basket of romantic dinner, your mobile device goes off, notifying you of a message.

 

You shuffle a bit to get your device out of your pocket, only to find a message from the one troll you had hoped never to hear from again.

 

poseidonsFangs [PF] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

PF: --[ GreeTings, Caligula.

CA: wwhat is it pos

CA: kinda fuckin busy right noww

PF: --[ Oh, I can imagine.

PF: --[ STill fraTernizing wiTh our haTed foes, I presume?

CA: i told you im just lullin them all into a false sense a security

CA: just doin my job

PF: --[ Hm.

PF: --[ IT seems To me ThaT you're doing iT a liTTle Too well.

CA: wwhats that supposed to mean

PF: --[ We have ocular globes and aural ducTs in many places, Caligula.

PF: --[ And whaT They have Told me is very disTurbing.

CA: look can wwe talk later

CA: kinda busy

PF: --[ I would be more inclined To leT you off if I had some proof of your dedicaTion To our cause.

PF: --[ I believe iT would be in our besT inTeresTs, and yours, if you broke Things off wiTh your...

PF: --[ DisgusTing maTespriT.

 

You no longer have time or patience for his hoof-beastshit. You consider blocking him entirely, but you know he'd probably take that badly. So you merely ignore him for now, but as if on cue, you receive another message from another troll you really would rather not hear from ever again.

 

neptunesIncisors [NI] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

 

NI: --{ Caligula, You poor, pathetic excuse for a seadweller!

NI: --{ Do not, for the slightest moment, get it into Your think pan that we will tolerate this sort of behavior from one of Your station!

NI: --{ Realize now, that You are on a path that leads onlY to despair and devastation!

NI: --{ You will obeY mY brother's order!

NI: --{ Whether You like it or not!

NI: --{ Live well, Ampora. Live well!

 

neptunesIncisors [NI] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium

 

Well that was creepy. But considering that it's Waylon who trolled you, it's no surprise. But his implications aren't much your liking.

 

_Wwhale, Nep and I can handle ourselwes. And it's not as if he knowws wwhere wwe liwe, right?_

 

You continue, mildly paranoid, towards the checkout. You're looking over your shoulder far more than where you're going, and you bump into someone, spilling the contents of your basket on the floor.

 

“Hey wwatch wwhere the fuck you're goin! I ought ta–” You look up to see someone you hadn't seen in a very long time. “Ter? Is that you?”

 

“Hm, smells like desperation, grape, and an abject lack of salt water. Must be Eridan Ampora,” Terezi Pyrope snarks here before you, dressed in a rather fetching teal suit, with her trademark shades obfuscating her ocular orbs. You gather your groceries up and stand to meet her crimson gaze.

 

“Yeah, nice to see you too, Ter,” you sarcast in retaliation, then smile, “Howw hawe you been doin?”

 

“Oh, you know. Getting through legislaceration college. Won my first trial the other night. Hmm,” she sniffs the air a bit, “You smell like... olive? Olive and secrets.” She gets in your face and frowns. “Something you're keeping from Nepeta?”

 

“W-wwha?” you stammer, truly confused, and to tell the truth, a little intimidated.

 

“It's not hard to put two and two together. You've got olive on the breath, and on your lips, with a faint hint of cat dander and cave rock. That tells me that despite your many, _many_ flaws, you've got a matesprit, and the closest olive-blood to the nearest lake is Nepeta, which would also explain the dander and rock smell,” she crosses her arms in satisfaction and continues, “As for the other smell, you absolutely reek of base paranoia, and I can smell your hesitant thumb-prints on something in your pocket, likely your mobile. I also happen to know that you're a part of a certain seadweller-supremicist group – having easy access to public records is surprisingly helpful – and that you maintain frequent communications with at least two of its higher-ranked members. Perhaps you're trying to hide your flagrant hemophobia from your beau, hm?” She grins, toothy and wide, obviously pleased with herself.

 

She's starting to make you rather peeved. Her intrusions into your privacy and assumptions of your character certainly aren't helping your current mindset.

 

A certain instinct begins to well up within you, where before it had lain, mellow and dormant. An instinct familiar and vile. The bile rises to your throat and you similarly rise to her bait, “Wwhy don't you mind your owwn fuckin' business, Miss Sniffs-alot?” It's not the best insult, but you're only getting started, “I can tell your nose has gotten better, but you'll newer be able to _see_ me for wwhat I'we become in recent swweeps. Meanwwhile, I knoww exactly wwhat the fuck you are. You're still just a blind bitch obsessed wwith smells and lickin' shit. Your wwantin' to be a legislacerator is just your wway a cowerin' up your desire to followw your ancestor's footsteps.” Now for the finisher, “Just like Wris.”

 

For something you pulled out of your waste chute, you're rather pleased with how it came out. And better yet, it has the intended effect. Terezi's face is a visage of fury and indignation. She snaps, “Oh, you did not just say that!” She draws her cane sword and charges you with a cry. You can almost see the spades in her eyes, and you're no different. With a grin, you draw Ahab's Crosshairs, with just a split-second to ready yourself before she's upon you.

 

An hour or so later, you limp from the grocery store, items in hand. You are beaten, bloody, and spent. But you smile broadly nonetheless, satisfied beyond measure. _I almost forgot wwhy black's my faworite quadrant_. You chuckle a little, then get in your scuttlebuggy and drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update! Reason: still fears. I did have quite a bit of fun with this chapter though.


	22. XXII. In which an unfortunate intersection of bad timing and natural curiosity, with a dash of misunderstanding, causes conflict.

You hear a chorus of meows as you continue to frolic and chase violet flutterbies. This is strange, as you don't see any meow-beasts for miles around. However, the cute cacophony is explained when your eyes flutter open and you're back on your fur pile. You sleepily drag your mobile device from your coat pocket and turn off the alarm.

 

You rise with a yawn and a stretch, and then look at the sky outside your cave. It turns out to be early evening. _Ah, purrfect! Time to go._ You don your jacket, adjust your hat, and saunter from your cave, still groggy from your recent nap. As you clear the sleep from your think pan, your pace quickens a little. You are eager to see Eridan's hive (ship?). After all, he's seen your cave at least thrice, but you've never been to his place before. Of course, you've seen the shadow of it from afar, but for the longest time, you didn't believe anyone lived there. It was only after the two of you began dating that he told you of his ship (hive?).

 

You pad through the jungle until you reach the shore. You're tempted to try to swim all the way to the hive, but you wouldn't want to show up wet and weary. So you instead opt to amble along the shores of the dark lake, making your way around its waters.

 

You chance to glance down at your reflection in the water, and see that you're smiling broadly. That smile widens as you watch yourself walk on the beach, ever closer to your matesprit's maritime hive.

 

The rest of the walk there is uneventful, but nonetheless quite enjoyable. The night is clear, and the lake breeze is smells nice, refreshing.

 

You find your way to the front door, after taking a moment to admire the way the shipwreck juts out over the lake, dramatic and theatrical, just like your matesrpit. You approach the door, finding it already open. Cautiously, you open it and step inside.

 

Immediately, you see on the ground a trail of bright violet liquid that could only be blood. Eridan's blood. The claws are out before your voice is.

 

“Eridan!?” you call out into the air.

 

“Up here! Don't mind the blood,” Eridan's voice comes down from the stairs across the room. You get your thumping pump biscuit under control long enough to sheathe your claws and step around the blood and towards the stairs.

 

“What happened here?” you ask in the direction the top of the stairs.

 

“I met Ter at the store,” Eridan's voice responds.

 

“Purrezi did this?” You're a bit perplexed; you're not sure how or why Terezi would do this. Last you heard, she was attending legislacerator school. Why would she try to hurt Eridan? Had he broken the law?

 

“Yeah, but I gawe as good as I got,” Eridan's voice gives a rather hearty laugh, “Certainly made gettin' groceries interestin'.”

 

You've ascended the stairs and picked out where your matesprit's voice is coming from. Going through the door, you look about, still failing to find him.

 

“In here!” he calls from behind a closed door, “Sorry, still dressin' these wwounds. Make yourself at hiwe!”

 

You sit at Eridan's husktop chair and take a short breath. Your pump biscuit has finally returned to normal thumping levels, but you're still a bit confused. “So... Why did Purrezi do this?”

 

“Wwhale, apparently Miss Lawwlady is black for me,” the grin behind his words is audible, and your concerned frown inverts immediately to match. “Wwho wwould hawe thought? I hawen't ewen seen her for swweeps and suddenly she's on my spade like... a suitable metaphor I'll come up wwith in time. Probably at three in the fuckin' afternoon...”

 

You make a mental note to edit your shipping wall to accommodate this development.

 

“Anywway,” your matesprit inhales sharply, possibly applying a bandage on a particularly painful spot, “W-wwait there a bit, I wwon't be long,”

 

“Sure thing, Eripaw!” You look around Eridan's respiteblock. _It's furry clean,_ you idly consider. You then spin in the chair a couple of times before spotting something very interesting on the desk next to you.

 

_Eripaw's mobile device! I wonfur what apps he has..._ You look at the device for what seems like a very long time.  _I shouldn't snoop. After pawll, it's his device, and I purrobably wouldn't like it if someone went through my things without my purrmission._

 

You cross your arms and look away from the thing. You snub it as hard as you possibly can. You put all of your willpower toward not indulging your curiosity.

 

You cannot do it. You cannot defeat the curiosity. You pick up his mobile and turn it on. To your delight, it's not password-protected.  _I'm just going to check out his apps_ , you tell yourself repeatedly. Indeed, that is your only intention.

 

However, his trollian is up as soon as you look down. At first you move to close it, but the log currently visible gives you pause.  _Who's this “poseidonsFangs”?_ Curious, you read through it. As well as the previous ones. And a few before that. Hundreds of conversations going back sweeps. All of them between your matesprit and this... despicable, horrendous excuse for a troll. Nearly all of them advocating the deaths of all landdwellers. And the last one that PF had sent Eridan...

 

_I... can't believe he'd..._ And just then, Eridan decides to come out of the ablution chamber.

 

“Hey Nep! Thanks for wwaitin'. Bitch got me better than I thought–,”

 

You wheel on him, full of betrayal and righteous fury in equal parts. He, on the other hand, is all bandages and blood, with a smile at seeing you, none of which you notice overmuch, much less care about.

 

“Eridan, what is this!?” you thrust the phone in his face, causing him to back up a little.

 

“Wwell wwho the fuck gawe you permission to go through my mobile dewice?” he responds testily, snatching the thing from you. You are not at all deterred.

 

“I trusted you, Eridan!” you shout at him, anger rising.

 

“Nep, listen–,”

 

“Equius told me you hated landdwellers, but I didn't believe him!” Your voice reaches a higher pitch than most would expect from your frame.

 

“Nep, please–,”

 

“And then I find out you're talking to this, this, _hemophobic asshole_ , and worse, you _agree_ with him!?” You're barely breathing between shouts, but you don't care.

 

“Nep, for fuck's–,”

 

“And then he tells you to break things off with me!?” you shriek, tears beginning to mist over your eyes as your emotions usurp the throne of your think pan, “I thought you were red for me, Eridan!”

 

“Nep, listen to me, you scumsuckin' land–,” he stops short. And that's it. All the rest is silence.

 

You walk from the respiteblock, from the hive, back along the beach. The walk back is uneventful. Clouds have begun to gather, and the lake spray stings your ocular globes a bit.

 

As soon as you reach your cave, you send off a message to Equius, and then curl up on the fur pile. What you do not do is cry. Why should you? After all, it was only five weeks. Wasn't that big a deal. So why does it feel like it's one of the biggest deals of your life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously don't know about this chapter. I actually forced myself to take a step back from it and think on it for a while, but I failed to find any way to improve it, so I submit it as is. I may go back and change it at some point, for which I apologize in advance.


	23. XXIII. In which Eridan resolves to make amends with Nepeta after nearly falling into despair.

You stand in your respiteblock, trembling, livid with rage and despair, all turned inward.

 

“Fuck...” you mutter to no one in particular. You gaze at the mobile device in your grasp, your hand shaking uncontrollably. Violet anguish drips onto its screen, and you whip it across the block before another drop can fall.

 

“'Fuck,' May Be A Bit Of An Understatement, Ampora.” Kanaya walks in tentatively.

 

“Kan, wwhat the fuck– Howw much did you hear?” Your ocular globes are wide, your body unmoving, save for its involuntary shaking.

 

“I Cannot Say I Heard 'Everything', But I Heard More Than Enough.”

 

You look away from her. You'd have looked away from any troll; eyes themselves seem to accuse.

 

“Look, Eridan–“

 

“I thought I had dealt with it,” you manage to look at her feet, “I thought I had gotten past my 'kill all the landdwwellers' phase. I thought I wwas fuckin' done wwith it.” There's a pause. Then quietly, “If you don't wwant to hawe anythin' to do wwith me anymore, I'd understand.”

 

“Oh Spare Me, Eridan.” She crosses her arms and gives you a look that tells you in no small terms that she is having none of it. The two of you stare at one another, then Kanaya continues, “What You Quite Nearly Said To Nepeta Was Quite Reprehensible. I Will Agree With You On That Point.”

 

You turn away in shame. But your moirail keeps going regardless, “However, Let Me Ask You A Question. If I Decided That I Never Wanted To Be Awake During The Day Ever Again, Do You Think I'd Be Able To Keep To It With One-Hundred Percent?”

 

“Wwell, yeah,” you immediately answer, “Wwhy wwouldn't you?”

 

Kanaya shakes her head, “I've Been A Day Prey-Bird Ever Since I Was A Grub. Even If I Wanted To Keep What You'd Call 'More Reasonable Hours', I Would Very Likely Spend Many Days 'Accidentally' Staying Up.”

 

“Fine. Wwhat's your point Kan?”

 

“ You Were A Hemophobe Almost Since Grubhood, Yes?”

 

“Yes,” you say quietly.

 

“And You Think That Just Because You've Gotten A Bit Older, Gotten A Bit More Mature, And Gotten To Know A Couple Of Comely Landdwellers, All Of That Drivel Will Just Flush From Your System?”

 

“Wwould it be completely ridiculous of me to say 'yes'?” you ask nervously. Kanaya raises an eyebrow. You take that for a “yes”.

 

“Eridan,” she approaches you, and paps you gingerly, “You Are A Good Person. But Like All People, You've Got A Past. And Sometimes Our Pasts Come Back To Bite Us Square On The Rear. You've Probably Internalized A Lot Of What Your Peers Told You As A Wriggler. Or Something. I'm A Fashionista, Not A Psychiatrist.” She smiles at you and strokes your cheek a little. You smile despite yourself, but not for long.

 

“That's all wwell and good of you to say, but...” you trail off.

 

“Nepeta,” Kanaya says simply.

 

“I hurt her bad tonight. Really bad.” Your face contorts into a visage of sorrow, and your body shudders as you try to keep yourself from weeping disconsolately. “She'd hawe to be crazy to wwant to be my matesprit again!” Your voice approaches a wail, at which point, Kanaya paps you again, a bit harder this time.

 

“Eridan, She's Certainly Never Going To Come Back To You If You Resort To Such Theatrics.” Her hand drops to your shoulder as she continues, “You Did Her Wrong. But There's Still Time To Make Things Right. Besides, You Know You Messed Up. That's Far More Than The You Of Six Sweeps Would Know.” Another pause, contemplative and still, and then, “Tonight, You Let Six-Sweeps Old Eridan Out In A Moment Of Frustration. Now Show Her What Current Eridan Is Really Like. Tell Her How Current Eridan Truly Feels About Her. That Is You. You Are Current Eridan.” She steps back a smidge, and the space between you fills with your new-found confidence, your resurrected hope.

 

“You're right Kan,” you clench your fist dramatically, “That racist, hemophobic motherfucker is dead! Sawwn right the fuck in half by maturity and turned into a decent fuckin' person! I'm a neww troll! And the first thin' this neww troll's gonna do is apologize to his matesprit a' fiwe wweeks!” You begin to hustle out from your respiteblock with prodigious speed. Just as you are about to descend the stairs, you pop back into the block, “Erm, wwhy are you here, anywway? I mean, your timin's kinda impeccable.”

 

Kanaya smiles. “I Would Think A New Troll Would Like A New Cape To Match,” she draws one of your capes from her captchalogue; your longest one, “At Least, One That's Fixed Like New.”

 

You take the cape from her and quickly put it on. You give your moirail a pale embrace, “Thanks Kan. You're the best.” She returns your hug.

 

“It Was No Trouble At All, Mister Ampora. Now Go Make Things Right With Your Lady Love!”

 

“Right!” you nod with vigor, and begin the hustle once again, only to pop back in one more time, “By the wway, howw're thins' goin' wwith Wris?”

 

Kanaya blushes fiercely, “W-well,” she stammers, “Let Us Say That Your Advice About Her Fingers Was Well And Truly Accurate, And Leave It At That For Now.”

 

You grin deviously, “Oh no you don't! Wwe'll talk later. At _length!_ ” Her blush deepens and you giggle excitedly before rushing out of the block and down the stairs. “Help yourself to anyfin in the meal wault!” you shout upstairs just before dashing into your indoor harbor, hastily unmooring your ship, recently rechristened, the “S.S. EriNep”, and leaping on deck. You then sail across the lake with greatest alacrity.

 

You take a glance overboard at your reflection, and feel something slip into the depths. _Probably somefin I didn't need._ You smile and steer your course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've nothing much to say about this chapter, in all frankness. Erm... If you like the work, comment! If you don't like it, comment! If you'd like to have a tea party with me sometime, comment! I suppose I like comments is all.


	24. XXIV: In which Nepeta and Equius rest a while after a short chat.

You purr in satisfaction as your muscled moirail moves his hands down your shoulders, working out your stress lumps with practiced ease.

 

“Equius, you nefur told me you were so good at back rubs,” you arch your back in pleasure, mewing softly, “When did you get so good?”

 

“Well, in truth, I did not gain STRENGTH in this skill on my own,” he squeezes with his thumbs, eliciting an appreciative coo from you. “I was taught by a veritable expert.”

 

“You have to tell me who taaauuught–,” you groan long and loud, “–you.”

 

“It was Aradia who taught me,” he says; you hear the smile in his voice, tremulous, yet strong.

 

“Aradia!” You scoot around to face Equius, a broad smile on your face, “You're matespurrits? Tell me efurrything!” Your face is inches away from his, your breath mingling with his own, as well as the ever-familiar smell of a thousand unwashed gymnasiums.

 

“Nepeta, please,” he pushes your face away gently, his fingers pinching your cheeks, contorting your face into a humorous caricature. “Your glee is premature. She and I are not matesprits. Even if we were, I would prefer not to speak of her and I.”

 

“Aaaw, why nooot?” you pout, attempting the rare and dangerous, “Adorable Moirail Pout.” Equius proves unflappable, however.

 

“Because as much as it would be a pleasure to wax poetic upon my own quadrant-life, I am here for you,” his lips stretch in a small frown, differentiated from your moirail's default facial expression only by the movement of his eyebrows.

 

“Ugh, do we _hafta_ talk about me?” you scoot back around, exasperated and just a little bit stung by the remembrance.

 

“I believe it would healthy for you, personally,” Equius returns to rubbing your back, but it doesn't feel quite as relaxing. He's already raised your hackles, and not even back rubs can lower them, even if said back rubs come from hands more skilled than those of the greatest Rubber of Backs on the whole of Alternia.

 

“Bluh,” you huff and cross your arms, only to slump over miserably, “I thought... I just thought it wasn't true.” You presume Equius to be nodding knowingly behind you, “That he wasn't... I thought you were wrong; I thought he cared for me regardless of my stupid blood color.” The words come out stifled, as if you were choking on a piece of charred meat. Equius makes a strangled noise, vaguely like the beginning of either a sympathetic comment, or an “I told you so” lecture. However, after a moment of paralysis, both vocally and physically, he slides his arms around you.

 

You smile, close your eyes, and lean into his embrace. “Thanks Equius,” you say quietly.

 

“Of course, Nepeta,” he responds simply. The two of you sit thusly for some time, enjoying each others' warmth, saying nothing, doing nothing. It is as if all time has stopped, and you are prepared for it to remain that way for all eternity, nestled up against your moirail.

 

Time then makes a vicious assault on your Fortress of Being More-or-less Alone in the form of loud cursing drifting up from beneath the mountain.

 

“Fuckin' plants! Fuck – Goddammit – Gahh!” This cacophony is followed by screams of terror and the sounds of a large clawbeast attack, which is then replaced with a sort of “pchoo” sound, albeit higher pitched and more sciencey. Along with the sciencey “pchoo” noise comes a great blast of light, visible from the cave. There is a moment of silence once again, followed by more plant-directed cursing.

 

“Eridan?” you wriggle out of Equius' grasp and move to look outside. Equius, however, is faster. He steps in front of you, impeding you like a great marble wall.

 

“You should stay here,” he says gruffly.

 

“What? No, I can handle him.” While you are sincere, you harbor doubts in the pier of your heart. Nonetheless, you don't feel as though Equius should have to intervene.

 

“I believe you, but that does not mean you should have to.” He casts a grim look outside, as though expecting some terrible creature to invade the cave.

 

“Equius, I don't want you to hurt him!” You clamber onto his back, trying to slow him somewhat, “I'll just tell him to fuck off.”

 

“Nepeta, language,” he says on reflex, “It is not him I am worried for. It is you. As your moirail, I cannot allow him to hurt you.” You slide off of his back, and he turns to you, “Allow me to discern his intentions, at the very least.”

 

You consider his request. While you don't want Eridan getting hurt (likely in a brutal and messy way), you must admit, at least to yourself, that you aren't in a very good state to be speaking to your hemophobic erstwhile matesprit, and to be frank, you may be more likely to kill him than Equius is. At least he's protected from Equius by that hemospectrum thing that they both love so much.

 

“Fine,” you say curtly, “But I don't need blood all over my cave. That stuff takes time to wash out, and I don't want this place to look like a vineyard exploded,” you smile wryly, ruefully.

 

Equius smiles back, “I shall endeavor to keep my great STRENGTH in check. Though, do not be surprised if I crush a few grapes.” He exits the cave, his footfalls quiet for a troll of his size.

 

Your smile falls somewhat. Something tells you that you'll have to deal with Eridan at some point, regardless of what occurs between he and your moirail. But Equius' intervention purchases you time, time to prepare, time to consider. You hope that time is all you require.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am extremely sorry about how long this chapter has taken. I legitimately have no excuse for this. Later this week, I plan to have written and posted a short Eridan Ampora x Aradia Megido drabble. Hopefully that will calm the voices of intense guilt I feel for not having this up sooner.
> 
> Can one "feel" a voice? I know not...


	25. XXV. In which Eridan plunges into darkness in search of light.

You have not had a very easy time getting to Nepeta's cave. In fact, it has been so not-very-easy that you are now convinced that Paradox Space itself is out to get you.

 

You had left your hive feeling confident, or at least like someone who was ready to redeem themselves after a moment of extreme shittiness. Which is exactly what had happened. However, as you sailed across the lake, you had what could only be described as an encounter with irony.

 

You could see the shore, the line of jungle like barricades arrayed against an invading foe. Despite the obvious ominousness of the foliage, you had been glad to see that you were nearly there. Just as you had approached the prow, you heard a loud, deep moan. You had paused, just in time to be tossed overboard like a piece of overdone vegetable from a pan by an energetic chef. After a few moments of chaos and cold and bubbles and deep, braying moans, you managed to flail to shore. Dragging yourself out of the water, you turned your head up to see a massive skywhale, gleaming white, flying into the air from the depths. Miraculously, your ship had survived the encounter, drifting up to the shore as though it was little paper boat, moving lazy and slow.

 

Scowling at your ship, you had gotten up off of the sand, and without hesitation plunged into the jungle. At least, you would have, if it weren't for the jungle itself. The trees seemed to purposely block your path, the shrubbery deliberately got underfoot, the ferns always seemed to tickle uncomfortable spots, vines seemed to magically appear always at neck or eye height, thorns nicked you where ferns didn't touch. As you had no blade with which to cut the vegetation away, you were left to bat the offending plants away with your arm, suffering more nicks and scratches in the process.

 

Progress was slow, but nonetheless, you persevered. You were on a quest. No plant or whale would stop your advance. However, a large, wild clawbeast would certainly make a strong effort.

 

You would be a liar if you said that the beast hadn't harmed you. You were, in fact, now covered in clawbeast scratches and a few deeper gashes, and some of your wounds from your tiff with Terezi had reopened. Fortunately, you had managed to wrench your Crosshairs free from your specibus just before it was about to disembowel you. You're not entirely sure where the animal went, but that hardly mattered at the time. You rose from the ground, breathing heavily and oozing violet, but alive and more determined than ever.

 

After a few more minutes of battling the jungle, you finally reached the foot of the mountain. At present, you stand just before the ascent to the cave. You begin your climb, feet tired, blood dripping, and body aching like never before. _Fuckin' hell... It's like the wwhole fuckin uniwerse is against me or somethin'_. You grit your teeth as your wounds throb somewhat. _There's gotta be a wword fer this shit... Prophetic phallus?_ You are mildly uncomfortable after thinking that word. _Nah, that's not it._

 

You march up the slope in silence both mental and audible. Soon, you are able to see the cave mouth, at once foreboding and welcoming. It would be a whole hell of a lot less foreboding if not for the troll standing guard. You pinch the bridge of your nose in complete and utter exasperation upon sighting the sweaty statuesque high-blood.

 

“Oh for fuck's sake,” you mutter just loud enough to be heard by Equius, as he whips his head around to face you.

 

“Seadweller,” he starts gruffly, “I was expecting you to come here swaggering with braggadocio and high expectations. I was, in fact, expecting to have to beat those expectations out of you.” His arms remain crossed, his expression an eternal scowl, and his eyes imperceptible behind those black, cracked glasses of his. “However,” he continues, “it seems as though you have been sufficiently cowed by the journey here.”

 

You gnash your teeth and scowl back at him. You're about to launch a tirade his way, but refrain only by inches. Instead, you huff and try to straighten up, wincing in mild pain. “Yeah wwell, I hawe to talk to Nep, so if you don't mind, I'll–”

 

“Not another step, seadweller,” his brows furrow in anger, but he doesn't move so much as a centimeter from his spot, “You've hurt her too much for me to allow to you pass.”

 

You rub your temples in overwhelming irritation, “I am tryin' to fix that, you big ower-muscled–” you manage to regain composure just before going over the edge, “Look, if I can't get past you, I can't patch thins' ower wwith Nep.”

 

“Mhm. I am not one-hundred percent certain that is your sole intention, seadweller,” he raises an eyebrow in skepticism.

 

“Just wwhat are you implyin'?”

 

“You have hurt her once. What is to convince me that you shall not do so again?”

 

You raise your finger and open your mouth to retort, only to come up terrifyingly short. He's right, there's absolutely nothing to prove you won't do her harm again. And the only keeping her from you is the sweaty gate-guardian in front of you. And he has no more assurance than you can provide.

 

“I...” You struggle to find the words, struggle to even articulate your thoughts and feelings to he that stands before you, and as you stammer silently, the gulf between you and coherent speech, and fixing things with Nepeta, widens.

 

You remember the day you properly met her. The day she saved you from drowning. You recall the intensity of her gaze, like you were the most important thing on Alternia, like there was nothing else. You recall her plodding through the desert, how you felt compelled to assist her regardless of the cost to yourself, not knowing why. You recall your first, and as of yet, only proper date, wherein everything went horribly wrong, and yet went perfectly in every possible way. You recall her smile, so freely given to you, the one you threw away in ill-placed rage. You recall her cat puns and how, despite your grumblings, you cherished every single one without even realizing it.

 

“I...” You find that you no longer lack for words, only that they all wish to come out at once, and like the Three Troll Stooges trying to get through a single door, they all get stuck in your mouth. You choke on the words, and consider that this may be what drowning feels like. And then you realize it. The floodgates open and everything comes out.

 

“I lowe her,” it's cliché, but a start, “I mean, I wwould be the first person to admit that I'm probably not the best for her. For anyone, really. But that doesn't matter. Not really. Wwhat does matter is that she needs to knoww just howw she makes me feel. Howw ewery time I see her smile, I feel like the wwhole wworld's just right. Howw ewery time she laughs, I can't help but giggle along. Howw ewery time she makes one a her dumb puns, I smile despite myself. She makes me feel like a wwhole neww troll ewery time I see her; ewery time she graces my wision globes wwith her face, all of Alternia just stops.” You take a breath, then press on, “I don't much mind if she deigns not to forgiwe me. I'm expectin' that. But I can't let thins' sit like they are wwithout tellin' her ewerythin'. Please, Eq, I need to get past you.”

 

Equius regards you for a long time. The whole of Paradox Space is still, frozen. You can feel the blood from your wounds clotting, the breath escaping your lungs, even the dirt shifting minutely beneath your feet.

 

“I must admit, seadweller, I am quite STRONGLY taken aback by the depth of your sincerity,” he takes off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt, doing more to dirty them than clean them. “However, just because I cannot detect any deception from you, that does not mean Nepeta will want to see you. I will tell her what you have told me. That is all I can, and will do for you.”

 

He withdraws into the cave. You take the opportunity to stagger up to the wall of the mountain and lean against it. Your wounds throb a little more, and you clutch your side in pain. _Just a little more. Just a little more, you wwet sack of sh-sshhhhh!_ Another pulse of pain. That wild clawbeast got you better than you thought. You look down at your body and immediately wish you hadn't. Your clothes, once refined and comfortable, are now torn to shreds and matted with blood. Violet oozes from between the fingers clutching your side. The bandages you had haphazardly applied to your previous wounds are now frayed and dirty.

 

You look away, hissing as much in physical pain as in annoyance over your appearance. _A course I hawe to come before Nep lookin' like the last meoww-beast in the companion animal dispensary_. You smile ruefully. _At least if I die inside her cawe, that lusus a her's wwill hawe a fine meal_. It doesn’t occur to you that you are being dramatic, mostly because you are always dramatic, and also because you are losing more blood than most trolloid creatures should have any right to have.

 

A few moments more, and Equius returns from inside the cave. You hurriedly attempt to straighten up, gasping in the rapid pain. You notice a small bead of sweat roll down Equius' carvéd face, and... concern, perhaps, alight on his eyebrows. 'Tis only a flash, however, and he quickly regains composure.

 

“Nepeta will see you now,” he says curtly. “And remember,” he cracks his knuckles, “If you hurt her again, nothing will protect you.”

 

“Yeah, got it,” still recoiling from the effort of standing straight, you manage a harsh whisper as you shamble past the blue-blooded cave guardian.

 

“Good luck, Eridan,” it's quiet, and you're not certain if you were meant to hear it, but you smile a little bit anyway as you shuffle along. The cave is dark, looming, where once it was friendly and welcoming, even cozy. You know that there will be no comfy pile of furs, no tea. But nonetheless, you take the plunge into the darkness, the looming, the threat of rejection; one more painful than any you've suffered before.

 

None of that quite matters though. The troll inside this cave is the most important thing ever right now, and perhaps forever. You plunge into the darkness in search of light.


	26. XXVI. In which Nepeta meets with a half-dead highblood, and succeeds at reconciling with him by bringing the pain to her own pain

You have no idea how you will react to seeing Eridan. When your moirail said to you that he wished an audience, your first instinct, justifiably, was to deny him. Yet you acceded the seadweller's request nonetheless.

 

_Why am I doing this?_ You ask yourself, sitting near the back of your cave. Dread builds in your breast as you begin to frantically question,  _Do I feel like he should have another chance? Am I not that furrious after all? Why am I letting that hemophobic, gangly, hipster asshole back into my hive?_

 

“Gaah!” you emote with a whisper, “What am I even doing? This is such a bad idea, I should just–“

 

_Drip._

 

Your ears perk up at the sound, attempting to ascertain its source. Having lived in a cave for your entire life, you are no stranger to semi-random dripping noises from our ceiling.

 

_Drop._

 

But this was not one of those noises. It is not an innocent droplet of water from a currently harmless stalactite.

 

_Ssshhh-fup._

 

It accompanies the sounds of shuffling feet, steady, rhythmic, like a soft dirge from fervent mourners. It is purposed, definite, no wandering lusus or confused animal.  _But what is that dripping noise?_ Apprehension takes hold of you, and you look up only slowly, almost fearfully.

 

_Drip._

 

Before you stands Eridan Ampora, sloughing blood, bandages fraying and dirty, wounds caked with scab and congealed violet. He is ghostly pale, and the sweat on his brow rivals Equius for sheer volume. One hand is fastened to his abdomen so as to keep his blood inside him, but the arm attached is as shaky as the rest of him, and it seems as though he is holding the hand there only by sheer force of will. What parts of his body are not smeared with blood are damp with seawater. He smells overwhelmingly, almost offensively of wet cotton and copper, water and weeping wounds. His breathing is loud, haggard, but his lips are contorted into a grim smile, as though stuck that way via rigor mortis. Those teeth you so admire, formerly so white and gleaming, are speckled with bright violet blood and fine grit. In short, without flourish, he looks like death itself.

 

You spring to your feet, your pump biscuit filled with grief and pity and a bit of rage to boot; you extend your hands to touch him, but hesitate.

 

“H... Hey Nep,” he weakly utters, “I just wanted to... wanted to... wanted.” He teeters, his hand falls, releasing a trickle of violet life,. He stumbles, he falls backwards. It is all you can do to catch him before he hits the floor.

 

He hisses in pain, but the smile refuses to fade. “Th... Thanks, Nep,” his smile closes, hiding his speckled teeth, “I just... I just... love ya.” Greenish liquid drops from above onto his face, and someone sniffles loudly sorrowful at his plight. “Good day... Nepeta...” His eyelids drop, and his body relaxes.

 

You hold him close to you before you can even begin to consider another option. You close your eyes, saying nothing. All is completely silent.

 

_Hhhuh..._

 

Except for the faint, terribly faint sound of air escaping the breath sacs.

 

_Hhhuh..._

 

You pull away from him in shock.  _Still alive_ . Your mind is suddenly aflame with tasks, and your body soon follows.  _Still alive_ . That mantra saves you from tears, from sorrow, from the last vestiges of your anger, nearly destroyed by the sheer piteousness of the creature that shuffled into your hive.  _Still alive_ .

 

_Hhhuhuh..._

 

You scoop the seadweller up with ease, and place him oh-so-gingerly upon your fur pile, rush over to your closet in the back, and finally return with a few rolls of bandages. You undress him (damn the impropriety) quickly, but as carefully as you are able. Judging from the way his own bandages are hanging off of his thin form, you deduce that he didn't quite know what he was doing when he applied them, and the clawbeast certainly didn't help matters. You remove the rags, tossing them aside, and begin to wrap clean bandages around him, making certain to carefully attend to each and every fissure on his body. It takes a little more than two whole rolls of bandages to properly cover all of his wounds.

 

You wipe the sweat from your brow and exhale, relaxing somewhat. You retrieve a spare blanket from your closet and drape Eridan's reposeful body with it. Then, you order a slightly perplexed Equius into town for painkillers.

 

As Equius' hulking form trods down the mountain to his scuttlebuggy, you retreat back into the cave, and squat a slight distance away from the sleeping seatroll. You note with satisfaction that his breathing appears to have stabilized, become deeper than before. You note that even in the peace of sleep, he smiles just a little bit. You note his ruined clothes, piled in a corner, stained violet in shades proportional to the volume of blood spilt upon them. You do not note how much you hope he wakes up. You do not note the way he said that he loved you, “love” a word so infrequently used on Alternia, it may as well be taboo. You most certainly do not note how much you want to hear it again.

 

Come to think of it, you're not actually sure what his original intent was. Equius had not bothered to elaborate, and you hadn't asked. You make the safe presumption, that is, he came to try and smooth things over with you. You're not sure how to take this presumption. On the one hand, he collaborates with genocidal assholes devoted to racial purity. On the other hand, he put in a great deal of effort to get to you, and that suggests that he really does care for you, despite your difference in blood-castes. On the third hand, he hurt you worse than any wild beast you've ever encountered. On the (hopefully) last hand...  _“I just... love ya...”_ You remember the total and complete adoration in his ocular orbs, the sincerity the shone in their depths. You remember his words, innocent and light.

 

You grip your temples in impatience. “What am I supposed to do?” you exasperate, “I've nefurr been in this situation befur and I cat even stop making these gog-damned cat puns fur one mewsly second–”

 

A giggle emerges from the slumbering form of Eridan. “Puns...” he mutters, and shifts involuntarily. All you can do is sit there dumbly and stare.

 

Equius returns with the painkillers in short order. You take the little bottle from him and thank him quietly, with a slight curtness that you can tell unnerves him. He looks at Eridan, face inscrutable, as it often is.

 

“I am confident he will come through,” he says, sitting next to you and removing his sunglasses, “Highbloods are extremely durable, and even among them, seadwellers are amazingly difficult to permanently damage.”

 

“I thought you hated seadwellers,” a miniscule grin graces your face, “But that sounded almost like a compliment.”

 

“I am able to recognize strengths in the trolls I otherwise despise,” he huffs and returns his sunglasses to his face. A pause looms between the two of you as you watch the seadweller's breathing, the expansion and deflation of his chest, like the ebb and flow of the tides. “Do you truly have mating fondness for this troll?” he asks suddenly.

 

“I...” you don't look at him in the eye just yet. The question moves through your think pan, not lazily, merely slowly, like a slip of paper across an air hockey table, or a ship down a long river. The answer is at the other end of the table or river, and yet it seems so self-evident. The journey the question makes seems superfluous, and yet you cannot bring yourself to speak the answer. It is as though something is blocking the answer from flowing from your lips.

 

That something, once conceptualized in your mind's eye, takes on the form of a great, dark wall. Pain and hurt emanate from the wall, in menacing crimson waves. You know that what you need lies beyond this wall. But you know not how you would get around the wall; it seems to stretch on for miles in both directions.

 

But you do know that you need, more than anything else right now, to answer your moirail's question, that question at the crux of this “Long Bright Day of the Soul”. So, with all the fervor of a troll possessed, you charge the wall. Screaming your fury, you bring your claws down on the walls in a mad chopping motion like the blades of a dozen axes upon one massive waiting neck. The wall crumbles, and with a hiss, the hurt dissipates.

 

And then you are back in the cave, away from the land of hurt and pain and abysmally bad metaphors; you are on your knees next to Equius. Your hands lie flat on the floor of your home; you ball them into fists, and then whip your head up to face your moirail, face set but smiling.

 

“It's more than that, Equius. 'Mating fondness' doesn't describe the joy I feel when I see his smile, with its pointy, gleaming teeth, or the tension I feel whenever I think he's in danger, or the desire I have to stay by him, even when things are at their worst.” You look over at Eridan's reclining form and sigh; a quiet, relaxed sort of sigh.

 

“And will you forgive him his transgression?” Equius asks easily, but with the knowledge of the weight his question holds.

 

You close your eyes, “I think so.”

 

“And that is it?”  
  


You look to him, eyes open and face a bit stern, “Oh, of course, we'll have to have a talk. And he'll probably apawlogize a whole bunch. But in the end, I think it's a given that I'll forgive him. There is one thing I'd like to ask him though...”

 

As if on cue, the seadweller stirs, feebly mumbling at first, then giving light groans of contrition.

 

“I should be going, Nepeta,” your moirail rises to his feet and makes to leave.

 

“Sure,” you stand to see him out, “Thanks a bunch fur being here.” You smile happily at him.

 

“Of course. After all, I have a STRONG suspicion that you would have done the same for me.” And with that, he walks away.

 

You look back the stirring seadweller. He is beginning to rise, one elbow on the ground to steady himself, his free hand clutching his side, and a pained hiss escaping through his sharp teeth. He looks up at you, eyes wide. He sputters for a second or too, and it takes all you have not to giggle at him. Finally, he takes a breath and asks, “Nep, wwhat happened?”

 

“You were mauled by a clawbeast,” you respond without hesitation. He raises a brow and gestures with his hand.

 

“Yeah, I remember that, but wwhat happened then?” he looks off elsewhere, “I dreampt you wwere cryin ower me, and I wwas...” He gazes into the middle distance for a moment or two, and then finally remembers his purpose. “Oh my god, Nep, I'm so sorry, I newer meant to hurt–“ You raise a hand to stop him.

 

“I know mew never meant to hurt me. I know you were probably mad and you slipped up or something.” The words are difficult to say, despite the ease with which they tumble out from your mouth, “But I need to know one thing, Eridan.” The seadweller nods emphatically.

 

You inhale, than exhale sharply, “Just... Why? Why did you slip up like that? How you could have efur?” you flounder a bit, filling the air with the gesticulation of your hands as you figure out how to ask your question, “Why would you prove me so wrong?” A tear nearly forms at the edge of your eye, but you refuse to let it fall.

 

Eridan sighs, and then with a grunt of pain, sits up fully. “Nepeta,” he starts, and you are immediately caught by his saying your full first name, “I want to be as clear as possible.” He is speaking slowly, making each and every word deliberate. At first, you don't know why he is speaking so carefully, but then it hits you; he's dropped his accent. He continues gravely, “Therefore, I am makin' – making – every effort to enunciate my words. Do you understand me?” You nod, mesmerized by this new, more serious, more refined version of Eridan Ampora. He inclines his head slightly, “Good. I will begin at the beginning.”

 

From there, he regales you with the tale of how, many sweeps ago, he first came into contact with the seadweller supremacy group. How, at one of his lowest nadirs, before he had even met Feferi, this band of hate-filled children took him in when no one else would, brought him into their fold when all of Eridan's other peers had rejected him. He felt as though he belonged, and for a great long time after, saw no reason to break from them. Of course, some time after, he met Feferi, and then Kanaya, and Vriska, and his other landdwelling friends and associates. His seadwelling ones took notice of course, but his two greatest friends in the group, Wyland Garlen and Waylon Gerlan, always stuck by him for some reason. This backing allowed Eridan much greater freedom than he would have otherwise been allowed from his undersea brethren, and he grew complacent. He hadn't even realized that he had so many landdwelling friends until fairly recently, and the realization had shocked him somewhat. But it was also around this time, Eridan reasoned, that he had in the past, been treating landdwellers unfairly, and he decided, somewhat unconsciously, to better respect and better protect his friends above the surface. Unfortunately, this course seemed to draw the ire of his two former compatriots, and their messages had been getting threatening as of late. Eridan, to hear him speak of it, had been forced to trick them into believing him to still be on their side, an ironic stratagem, given the excuses he had been making to them for quite some time now. But he is worried, worried that they will see through his ruse; and yet, he will ruse them as long as he can anyway.

 

As Eridan concludes his tale, you ponder its veracity. While the whole thing seems a little bit far-fetched, the sincerity in his tone and the effort he put into making himself more easily understood seem to lend weight to his speech. In addition, he didn't have much of a reason to lie to you. If he really was still affiliated with the organization he describes, he wouldn't have wasted his time trying to make amends. Moreover, he wouldn't have expended so much effort retaining his landdwelling friends.

 

However, it is not pure reason that causes you to make your choice. It is the look on Eridan's face when you look up from your thoughts. It is the look of a person so vulnerable, they are almost asking to be utterly destroyed. The look of someone who would take whatever you dished out to them, and then ask for more. The face a of man begging forgiveness but expecting none. Eridan wears the face of a person who has completed what they have set out to do, and expect nothing more, but yearn for so much. You cannot help but believe such a sincere, honest countenance. With all of his defenses reduced, his history revealed, it is as though you are seeing him for the first time. Without his fancy cape or his haughty gaze, without his crossed arms and total fastidiousness, you see an Eridan Ampora incapable of deception.

 

You shuffle over and embrace your matesprit, confident now, more than ever, that he is true to you, and that he would sooner close up his gills than hurt you intentionally. He tenses, then returns your embrace. He then begins to sob, muttering “Thank you” repeatedly.

 

“Silly fishy,” you whisper to him, “You don't need to thank me for believing you when you tell the truth.” You pull away to see his face, graced with a smile but marred by violet tears. You wipe one away with your sleeve, and say, “And to be faaaiiir,” you drag out the the 'Ā' sound, “I probably should have let you speak instead of furreaking out on you like I did.”

 

“An' I suppooose,” he draws out the 'Ō', “I should hawe kept my temper in check.”

 

“I'll improve as a troll if you do,” you tap his shoulder playfully, being careful to avoid his bandages.

 

“Hey, I am a perfect troll, thank you wery much!” he crosses his arms and huffs, only to catch your raised eyebrow and stern countenance, “Although I suppose ewen perfection can be improwed wwith the right troll to keep it on track.” He cracks a smile, and then you do, and then you're both giggling like loons. You soon both end up on the floor in stitches (no pun intended in Eridan's case).

 

“I love you, Eridan.” you say to him when the laughter dies down.

 

There is a moment of silence.

 

“I lowe you too, Nepeta.” he responds, smiling at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, we are back on track. Forgive me, once again for the tardiness of the piece, and for any mistakes to grammar or characterization I may have made.


	27. XXVII. In which the afterglow of a date is spoilt somewhat by apocalyptically bad tidings

You are ERIDAN AMPORA, and you've never been happier in your life. You've got a wonderful matesprit, a sassy but supportive moirail, and your once-in-a-blue-moon encounters with Terezi satisfy your Stygian urges more than adequately. 

It has been many weeks since meeting Nepeta Leijon, and it has been about two weeks since your conversation in her cave (hive? You're still not sure.), and it has been about fifteen minutes since she had promised to meet you here, in front of this very lovely café.

“Wwhere is that wwoman?” you mutter to yourself, annoyance and mild worry playing across your features. Your foot taps on the concrete sidewalk in front of the café's facade. Trolls go leisurely to and fro, one or two enter the café behind you. And you wait for your lovely matesprit.

But just then, you hear the unmistakable pitter-patter of hurried meow-beast themed slippers.

“I'm here! I'm here!” Nepeta stops just short of you, bending over and clutching her knees, breathing heavily.

“You knoww,” you pop a squat in front of her so that your head is at level with her's, “I did offer to pick you up...”

“Nyah,” she paws dismissively in your direction, “I wanted to walk here; 'is my fault I woke up late.” She recovers and stands at her full height. You follow suite, and the two of you walk into the café.

You both sit down, order a light meal each, and make small talk until the food arrives.

“You knoww,” you start, beverage straw an inch from your mouth, “There's somethin' I'we been meanin' to ask.”

“Mm?” Nepeta lifts her head attentively, a piece of cluck-beast meat dangling from her lips.

“Wwhale, wwe're both getting' to that age...” you trail off, hoping she'll understand.

“Nm?” she swallows her food with an exaggerated gulping sound, “To what 'age' are you referring, Ampurra?”

“Wwell... Wwe'll be shipped off-planet soon is all,” you put down your drink, “I wwas wwonderin' if you had any plans for wwhat part a' the empire you wwere thinkin' a goin'...”

“Hah!” she lets out a hearty, if high-pitched laugh, “I'm just going to stay in my cave furefur!” She smiles at you artlessly.

“Be serious here, Nep,” you furrow your brows at her, “If you don't choose a place, one wwill be chosen for you.” Your features soften and you lean on your elbows over the table, “I wwas sorta hopin'... maybe... Wwe could go somewwhere together?” You falter, your face taking on an awkward, searching, visage, your hand hovering somewhat, as though offering some substantial object within.

Nepeta lifts her sandwich to her lips, and responds, “Sure! Sounds good!” before taking a large bite.

You lift a brow, “Wwhat, just like that?”

She swallows her food, “Well, yeah! All I need is a place to hunt and run around. Oh! And Equius. We need to bring him along, of course.”

You blink, and laugh in relief, “Oh man, Nep, I... I don't knoww wwhy I wwas stressin' out about this ewen.”

You take up a small portion of fishsteak with your fork, open your mouth, and... your eye falls on a troll in a booth across the café. The troll, a seadweller, looks disgruntled, even angry as they look back at you. So, you do the one thing that people in cultures across Paradox Space would do in a similar situation: you do that thing where you think you may know someone, so you simultaneously squint and raise your eyebrows as you try to remember if you know them, but then you spend too long doing that, and then you realize that you look like a lunatic, so you get really self-conscious and stop. The seadweller responds masterfully by looking away hurriedly.

Nepeta, noticing your unreciprocated staring contest, makes a sort of inquisitive noise and then, evidently feeling a need to be more direct, hoists herself to your side of the table by her hands and asks, “Erifin! You okay?”

“Huh?” you shake your head rapidly, “Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, thought I kneww that guy.”

The two of you finish up your respective meals, and you head out, holding hands.

“Thank you fur taking me to lunch, Eridan!” Nepeta reaches up on her tippy-toes and gives you a full, wet smooch on the cheek.

“Hey, hey, wwatch it!” you giggle. You then lean down and plant a soft kiss on Nepeta's lips, causing a deep blush to rise on both your faces. “So, wwhat are you doin' after this?” you ask casually, lifting your head back up in a swift motion.

“I'm goin' to hang out with Katnaya!” she smiles at you, “We're gonna have tea and catch up a bit!”

“Wwhale, hawe fun wwith that,” you smile slyly back, “Tell moirail mine I said 'Hello', oh matesprit mine!” Nepeta laughs loudly, and you let some chortles escape your breath tube. “Wwould you like me to driwe you there?” you offer gallantly.

“No thank you! I remember the way there,” she starts walking down the street in the direction of the desert. You smile lightly after her and shake your head.

The drive back to your hive is entirely uneventful. You enter the ship, wave a brief greeting to your lusus, dis-cape, and check your mobile device for messages.

There's one from someone you were certain you had blocked.

poseidonsFangs [PF] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

PF: --[ GreeTings, TraiTor.  
PF: --[ IT is my duTy To inform...  
PF: --[ No, To warn you, ThaT There has been significanT advancemenT in our plan To eradicaTe all land-dwelling scum on The glorious AlTernia.  
PF: --[ Do you, by chance, remember our shorT conversaTion several weeks ago? When I asked you wheTher iT would be an effecTive use of Time if we aTTempTed to persuade Her Imperious Condescension To perform a purge of our planeT?  
PF: --[ IT seems you were incorrecT in your assessmenT of This plan.  
PF: --[ For I warn you now, TraiTor, ThaT a sTorm is coming.  
PF: --[ I warn you, in remembrance of The service you once provided for our cause, of The cause of all righT-Thinking seadwellers.  
PF: --[ I warn you, our Empress is coming.  
PF: --[ And she is noT pleased.

poseidonsFangs [PF] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

You are literally as sweaty as Equius as you dash back to your scuttlebuggy, shove the key in the ignition, and speed toward the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is not dead that may eternal lie,  
> and with strange aeons,  
> even ancient Homestuck fanfictions,  
> may get updated.


End file.
